I hope they bring their fiddles and guitars
She knits with silver thread

Light up the silence

Smallbirds
Guatemalan weaving on my christmas tree helps send K on her way to Guatemala / Jan 2009

The night begins,
when the moon
—Grandmother of the villages—
comes out with her lime-white candle
to light up the silence.

The darkness
hides in the canyons,
the small birds
roll up their songs
and the trees
lie on their own shadows.

The grandmother
who hasn’t slept for centuries
sinks
into the eyes of the night.

~ the grandmother by Guatemalan poet Humberto Ak'abal
His poems “speak for a people still close to the earth, whose language allows us to enter a world that still recognizes the divine aliveness of nature.”

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