your fruit of the earth flys away with the wind;
as the papel picado rattles and I feel
a language of aromas and flames.
Water for the thirst that you claim
with the faith that stirs in the mind;
with such grandeur that is sorrow
of all that you suffer because you love.
You have brought with you death’s scent
the burning incense is alive in the house
and on the sleeping mat lies what used to be:
butterfly that pierces the air it traverses
and carries within its wings all which it has lived
its perfume is passion in all it touches
Source: Poem found in Oaxaca- Through the Eyes of the Soul, Day of the Dead in Mexico
(Image found here. Rebecca is hosting La Calaca a Day for the month of October. You can participate here.).