JANE-JACK MORALES

Tantoyuca

I learned to walk without bracing
down the steep slope of a crushed rock trail,
bright with dots of litter and flowers,
It unwound through green-laced hills .
I studied the ease of the Téenek women

who chatted and walked past me. Gently
they planted their feet, plastic shod or bare.
Buckets and baskets rested atop their heads.
Babies, tied to them in black rebozos,
rebounded gently with every easy stride.

Stopped, I heard dry corn stalks whispering
help to me from Santa Maria de Guadalupe.
Move like them, like water running
down the hill. Carry your own
strange burdens, responsibly, with grace.

I took some steps, copying the local walkers
and found an ancient familiar
swing in my own hips. My heels
thudded then gently ground my song
into the road and I walked home alone.