Rosettes of the Jaguar

I’m from prey and predators,
the jungle and the night.

I’m from parakeets in the trees,
their song in the breeze.

I’m from lightning and summer storms,
the flight of cranes and choppy seas.

I’m from ancient magic in my bones,
and galleons landing on the shore.

I’m from the rosettes of the jaguar,
its fangs, and its scars.

I’m from the sting of jellyfish
and venom under the stars

I’m from the blood that baptized the ground
where I had my first communion
and the graves pillaged
for the sake of a foreign crown.

I’m from stories told in scratches
on doors that stayed locked, time and again.

I’m from the sins of the father,
the son, and the holy spirit (Amen)

I’m from the healing sonnets of rain
pacifying the fires of conflicts arcane,
and the tales told by the sand,
a soft murmur, in every last grain.