New Year Poem
May we have a sweet year of struggle.
May we sing and hear our voices multiplied.
May we find the deep roots of courage in love
and feel it rise in us like sweet maple sap
simmered in the heat of this hard work,
the remaking of the world, until joy sugars our days.
Just as honey is made in the collective of shimmering wings
and sunshine grains of pollen gathered by many,
sin prisa, sin pausa, no hurry, no stopping,
let the joining of hands and hearts
seep from the many compartments of the comb
in a pool of liquid gold
and may the honey of our endeavors
drip, slow and delicious, onto our tongues.
May we have a sweet year of struggle.
May our losses fertilize the fields
into a bumper crop of blossom.
May the squashes flower and bear rich fruit.
May tomatoes and melons blush into flavor.
May all we have suffered turn
into soil. May a million mushrooms rise
from the broken places, and make medicine
for our wounding. May sunflowers clean the earth.
May we embrace the biggest challenges
we have ever faced, draw them close,
find their cracks and infiltrate like spores,
like tiny seeds, like moss.
May we turn our faces to the sun
and let hard times ripen in us,
until we are bursting with juice,
until we are blackberries among the thorns.
May we have a sweet year of struggle. Amen.
Maricao, Puerto Rico
(Present Time 202, January 2021)