Colibri

BY: NOEL MUNGUIA-MORENO

There is hum on this warm wind

this land was named mine, but I hold no grounds

to claim solid earth when our home is

the red current between stars.

At each beat of a tiny wing

a heart pumps nectar into flower wine,

opulent cobalt feather inspires a fortress

to call itself bird. The word for love

has been taken over by invaders, d

o not forget to tell your father uémbekua,*

for he heard no such rhythms, felt not its

power. Had he understood the magnitude

of care, mother would not haunt the front

door. He is still wandering fields and

rebuilding eternally collapsing homes.

From my lips, he will always hear,

Te amo

*Perpechua word for “I love you”