(h/t Megan for posting this poem by Vanessa Huang on Facebook)

Dear Executioners,

This the year angels unravel
your promise; enduring prayer hearts
fly home for holidays, stay
for each and all the days,
where bread for all reign free.

This the year no angel
sacrifice your pain, no plea
for life need breath, your swollen
feet return to visit each one
you’ve put away; this
the year you resolve to face
each sin, confess
humanity with the rest
of us, pilgrims
each and all.

This the year angels
lynched by your pen
and coffee, angels
still keeping
watch inside
return
and bless each memory.

This the year all earth’s
children witness
your prison, secrets
broken so no child know shiver
of hunger, shame,
mumstealing, the year each child
remember what it is
to be curious, free from
judgment gaze, relearn
home in body.

This the year we uproot
toxic spread barbed wire
watch tower, pray for each
serving lie
of lock and key; this
the year each immigrant
shriveled under gavel’s learned
command lay to rest, medicine
earth’s palm massaging
temple our sky, the year new
days rain your wildfire.

This the year strip
searches and forced sterilization
become sorrows
of our past, doctors
and warden find their own
forgiveness enough
to imagine reparation
for war on baby
breath, the year we each find
breath enough
to imagine new
practice, collect
bouquet for each
fallen soldier who
brave this trespass.

If we have learned to hear
prayer of ghosts on Angel Island, then
this is the year; if we felt pollution
from Alcatraz enough to shut
a prison down and dandelion
still root, then
this is the year; if Attica reminds us
that patience shake
foundation enough to threaten
your hold, wake sun
gods, know freedom
for a moment, then
this is the year.

So may each finger’s sorrow find
joy enough to loosen your mallet
grip and rest
in prayer
with the angels.

after Martín Espada’s “Imagine the Angels of Bread”