This World Will Be Saved By Sweepers            

by Melissa Silva

After the fires, I sweep -

I sweep the forest floors

My broom is sacred -

I dip it in holy basil water

I bless this broom,

I bless this

burning room

My braids muddy,

face charcoaled,

flowered apron ripped ragged -

holes in my shoe soles

I dance death -

I jump the broom,

its pine handle my partner

I sweep in spirals -

I sweep away bones and

teeth,

animal ribs,

baby tibias

I sweep away

layers,

layers,

layers

Gone the old growth

Gone the new growth

Beneath these blackened burnt trees,

beneath these twined twisted roots,

beneath this ash and rot

I find the earth

imprinted with

smoking glyphs

I translate,

I transcribe

these hidden words

Run

Save burning horses

Bury water

Eat wild sow thistle

Change course

Migrate, migrate, migrate

  

* * * * *

Melissa Silva is a Poet and a Nurse, living in the Boston area. She has studied storytelling and performance, Oral Traditions, Asian, Contemporary, and Experimental Poetry. She is a co-founder of the Poetry Sisters Collective and was a member of the performing collective Storytellers in Concert. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Tuck Magazine, The Lily Review, One Sentence Poems, Bonsai, and others. She does promotion for Červená Barva Press, Somerville, MA.