SLAM!

"Christmas Lights" 

On the River Napo, the jungle toasts
to its own lush emerald essence, and
dugout canoes paddle wiggly waters,
as our dark reflections, in a self-trapped
flow dance, course the expanse to the lodge.
In ceremonial frenzy, the breath
held at the sight of thatched roof cabanas
on the green rim where the lagoon’s cup fill
with toucans, macaws, water hyacinths...
this rain forest, in which natives cheer undying hope.

Blow gently, wind, for many a hike to come
as the rain drops confetti from heavens,
decorating the moist earth with trust.
No eggnog today but Nijiamanch,
beer of manioc roots and women’s spit,
to an Huaorani shaman’s carols drunk,
with Mestizos hiding from the world’s tumult...
and to think I flit from one failed thing to next,
life, a smooth glider, passing me by,
unless I learn the earth’s wordless language.

Without scorn but with curiosity,
feeling the forest crawl inside my skin,
I reconsider my worth in surprise
for my jumbled self to come together;
desire, a turbo-charged force, pushes
me to dig deep into jungle only to gaze
at Heaven with gratitude and praise,
for, this Christmas Eve, the dark river twinkles
with songs of the night and caimans’ neon eyes
and I rejoice in the lights on their frightful masks.


                             (travelogue of this trip in "The Selva" )