CALIFIA SPEAKS:

CALIFIA SPEAKS:

I did not choose this blanket of grass

or the slow fire of this golden heat.

My trees sink roots deep into my canyons.

They are my children.

I did not choose this deluge of rain,

nor the miners choking my rivers.

Why does the canal run south

for the border when so many

people want to come north?

Why do those red lines on maps

slice me from my first-born peninsula

and why does Baja speak

another language of salinity

the pickled tongue?

The myriad rivers

have lost their mouths

I do not understand this

preoccupation with separate things

when I roll out my wealth for all—

this golden wedding blanket,

this blue sea of the future,

these snowy peaks of the past,

the deep virgin lakes of my sorrow

the promise of my naked wealth

for all to see.

I did not choose this golden hoarde

to steal my hidden wealth;

leaving me vulnerable to the elements—

once my gold was gold enough for all.

8/16/94