Branches crawled up her arm,
penetrating her skin.
Thick painted veins
sprouting delicate leaves.
A deep red rose
blossomed on her head,
leaving
a trail of baby roses
to trickle
down her
ear.
She let out a fierce, barbaric yawp
piercing the sky,
her teeth bare,
defying the Andes,
defying the shackles of fate,
strength growing
into a burst of roots
in the corner of her eye.
Freedom surged from her every pore
on this day of celebration,
electric waves vibrated
into her fingertips
as she beat on her chinchinero
and led the march to
its destination.
Her worries flew away with the clouds.
Only the heat of the sun,
the rush of the leaves,
the songs of birds
surged from the depths of her bosom.
She let out her fierce, barbaric yawp
and the world
trembled as her soul
burst out
in wild, fearless bouts
of rhythm.
Her teeth bare,
defying the Andes,
defying the shackles of fate,
roots crying
in the corner of her eye,
life blooming
from her skin and hair,
as she led the crowd
to the gates
of paradise.
YOU ARE READING
The Barbaric Yawp
PoetryA poem in a series, inspired by pictures taken during the "Fiesta de la Comunidad Écologica de Peñalolén" in Santiago de Chile.
