By Paula Dalzell Villalonga, ’25
During temperamental summers
She rises warm
and people tread over her course skin
in wheels
She cries hot tears before midday
that wash the children
and cloak young lovers in its dew
And in the afternoon
She grins from the farthest beach east to the farthest beach west
so the swimmers can comb her waters as they weave between waves that are lit bright blue by her effulgent smile.
Her heart cannot be explained
or even imagined
The only way we may be able to grasp her is by describing her in terms of the physical objects we can see
she is too far outside the scope of our finite comprehension.
she has no gender
Gender was constructed by the society of people
As was race
And wealth
And intelligence
but for the understanding of people
she is given pronouns and features by which we can recognize her
if her heart were compared to anything we might understand in the physical world
It could almost be compared to
the binding energy between particles
except
the particles are every living thing
thin
and thick
and black
and brown.
And they all contribute to the formation of her heart, which is confined within a body adorned in
scars
And burns
and bruises
some of which are simply parts of her beauty like volcanoes and canyons
But some are transgressions inflicted by others, the very living things she loves and are inhabitants on her skin
She is vast and deep, but every bit of her composition is a sharpened nerve that writhes with ecstasy, anguish, and serenity.
When people inflict pain on her she feels tremors of agony
And though she is strong enough to eviscerate each and every one of them
she responds instead.
She cries out,
and her voice is a thunder of frigid sobs.
Her inhale is a massively expanding wave
her stiff breaths out are bloodthirsty winds seizing and tearing everything
If the people continue to depend on her perpetual misery
to drill deep into her flesh
and excavate her tissue
Infecting those wounds
poisoning her
Or mark her body with tattoos of acidic ink
Or if they continue to heat the air she bathes in
Making her sink in her collecting sweat
She will have to kill them first.
redinkmag 