Querido El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles del Río de Porciúncula,

Fare thee well LA, I never meant to stay, you wooed me from the start. those very particular angels, T&T, setting dynamite along the faultlines of my soul, clearing the way, preparing a new path.

Your salty waters drew out pain, privilege, toxins right through my sweaty pink, churned me on your sandy edges, scrubbed off ashes until I floated, until I bobbed safely, before I turned back eastward.

Your mountainous spine strong, your peaks and valleys a mysterious temple to meet my Creator once again, a vantage point to feel the light of my days anew, to love with fresh exfoliated heartskin.

Your many splendored fruits fed me, fed Darcie’s body, the magic of soul mixing with sand happened within, we do like we do, your grit slowly churned up the children we carry, the daughters who lift us with singing and moving and shaking: they learned from listening to you through their feets.

Your arteries, your veins, where I roamed freely from peoples to peoples, sensed their unique code scripts pulsing, DNA tales to enact a healing on your blood pressure, the sloughing of your thick plaques and façades, a clearing of your airways, an easing of your strained heart.

Let me love you this last day on your dirt.  

You have all you need. All the messages on your skin, in your soul, in your libraries, in your neighborhoods. Listen within, dear friend, listen to the 1,000 angels you sent to me, and the 1,000s more from the many bloodlines of the many rivers of the many tribes.

That is not your muscles quaking or your bones breaking but the sound of the many feets quietly marching upon you, under breathing winds whispering: Si se puede, Այո մենք կարող ենք, 我们可以, نعم نستطيع, Ya kita boleh, Ja lahko, Oo kaya natin, Oui nous pouvons, Ναι μπορούμε, Wi nou kapab, כן אנחנו יכולים, हाँ हम कर सकते हैं।, Ya kita bisa, Si possiamo, 私たちにはできます, 그래 우리는 할 수있어, بله ما میتوانیم, Yebo singakwenza lokho, Ndio tunaweza, Ae makou e hiki, Ioe e mafai ona tatou, sim nós podemos, ใช่เราสามารถ, Vâng, chúng tôi có thể, да мы можем, Ja det kan vi, Ja wir können, Yes we can..........

yes, we can.

Your wild orange fire hairs cauterized my wound, warmed my ache, seared me with story. I am forever yours, I will wear your tattoo and sing of your heart and your soul and your pain and your triumph.

from love,
matthew