A poem inspired by the mine rescue…

[Hope you will take a few moments to read my poem. Though, if you are looking for miner Victor Zamora’s own words, there are excerpts from one of his poems at the Latin American Herald Tribune: here.]

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Princess Jessica of Chile

He, being first thought dead
and now weary from the long ordeal

She, having transformed her worries
into curling hair, polished lips,
and the desire to become
a symbol of welcome and life to him

He, stepped out from the cage that
pulled him up from underground

She, sending their child ahead
as an emissary of hope
with the first hug

He, slightly disoriented
then remembers he has her
Has this treasure of life
this alliance he formed and nourished
this partnership and comfort he can return to

She sees it is time to step towards him
with her beauty, and compassion,
and jewels of grace.

They remake their union
in a long, slow
in a long, slow nearly forever embrace

Her crown topples to the ground

For a moment, no one sees
it is a hard hat in place of royal jewels
a miner’s helmet falling to the earth,
bearing witness, bringing attention

a miner’s life falling to the earth
with the eyes of the world

poem by Kimberly Wilder

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Mine Rescue in Chile: The Desert Princesses

 

from Wikimedia

 

My morning live-blogs about princesses, boots and politics is at onthewilderside: here.

What do I usually care about? Peace, justice, politics, fashion, feminism and English Literature. Though, like many other folks, I have been compelled to watch the human drama of the rescue of 33 men in Chile. Above is the link to my full blog. Below is my story about seeing a princess on the live-feed:

A princess…

I have been reading English literature and history and doing a personal study of “What makes a princess?” Some of what makes a princess in real life is bad – being part of a regime. Though, part of being a princess includes the beautiful side of aesthetics and humanity.

Today, I saw a princess. When the 14 th Chilean miner, Victor Zamora, was brought to the surface, his was wife there to await him. The curls of her long, flowing hair glistened like black crystals in the desert sun. She was wearing a hard hat, a required part of a vigil in somewhat dangerous territory. And, when Victor emerged into the sunlight to see his adoring wife, he reached out to hug her.  In the exuberance of their embrace, her hard hat fell to the floor like a crown.

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