The year I worked for an acupuncture clinic
Doctor would say healing ain’t a picnic;
But the practice was nothing I could ascribe to
Subtle sorcery against the only thing I knew.
Shut eyes in hotel but woke up in jail
Persecution is written, happens without fail.
“Go to Colombia,” said God. “Okay, I will.”
I went for answers then there read the Bible.
En la casa de Carlos y su amor, Astrid
And Barry from Boston and Astrid’s son, David
Wrote daily for new year’s resolution
Hoping to find ‘dumb-witted’ solution;
Danced with love and fell a lot
But back on the floor doing the foxtrot;
Saw Rafa’s friend get stabbed with destornillador
By crazed crackhead at Cerro Volador;
A blessing as sour as the rind of a lime
When you’ve made your angels work overtime.
“Prokofiev?” the Russian answered, “Of course–
In the fields of Myinska, making love on all fours!”
He illustrated for us in the Valley View sauna
And I thought I’d seen the Sangres’ flora and fauna!
Don’t believe everything you hear, Fool!
Live the love and wipe away the drool
That’s been there pooling on your good book
Close it and leave behind everything you took.
Now let the revelations begin
Feel the pain brought on by your own sin
Your angels will always know where you are:
Can’t hide from love, nor run off afar.
So surrender your life and do it with gladness
And make an end to this silencing sadness;
That will go on forever left to its own dumb will
Shielding you from God, going in for the kill.
© 2013, Amaya Engleking