I woke to the scent of palo santo
on the breeze, the faces of my
ancestors etched into my dreams.
We grieved together for all
that’s been lost, and the clip of
this world’s broken wings,
then turned our faces towards the sun
and dreamed of better things.
Dreams of hope and healing
where love prevails on hate,
dreams of illumination, when reverence
for life becomes our sacred way.
Dreams of grace and tenderness
where shadows are washed and transformed
by the rain, dreams of new tomorrows-
where we see the divine in
Dreams of new tomorrows-
where these days fall behind,
and we’ve reached for better things.