Awash in the afternoon’s holy fire
Mother slices cilantro into ever smaller shreds
The stuff of life leaking out onto gold-paneled countertops
Imprints on the cheap laminate, spelling out a sermon
We drank in the sun, and the earth
We sourced the water and created our own food
We are a miracle of life and a force to be reckoned with
We are here, we matter, and we will be heard.
The revolution is ushered into a plastic bag
Invited to wait, importantly, on the refrigerator’s top shelf
Where all of the big decisions are made.