by Isabella Moraga-Ghazi
this land is not conquered or broken;
she is living, persisting, and thriving.
curse to the nay-sayers
for I talk to her everyday.
she dreams wildly.
so wildly, and so vividly that she sees her destruction and rebirth, emulating the resilience
of the phoenix, continuously stream in the consciousness she holds.
why do we stop her dreams?
dreams that are much more valid than me’s or you’s.
the ancestors sing through her.
in the moss, in the cypress.
in the pelicans, in the possums.
her song is quiet but strong.
if you listen closely, she says “yakoke” and “si vous plait”
to me and others like me.
but a vengeance she has.
a vengeance so strong it makes Katrina look weak.
a vengeance so strong it makes Andrew Jackson’s knees tremble.
a vengeance so strong it makes the BP oil spill look far from a disaster.
a vengeance so strong it makes Marie Laveau startled.
and that vengeance lives through me and others like me.
for the obligation we have bestowed on us is a tall order of demanding respect.
when it is quiet, tohbi ofi need be afraid.
for you shall know, that vengeance is no longer resting.
it is living, persisting, and thriving.
and it will not rest until she is doing the same.
“vee wan cee,” she says, “and do not betray me.”
she believes in us.
it is time we believe in us.
and it is time we believe in her.