By Miranda Kelly

When you hear the rallying cry

from your protectors,

“Si a la vida, no a la mina!”

do you also feel alive?

Does your gratitude for the

relentless encampment of a determined community,

mask your grief for the ruin of your sisters?

Dearest River,

have you heard what could have easily become of you,

that without three years of perseverance

you would be forced to carry

toxins, heavy metals, and diseases?

Do you bubble with pride at the saints who have been cleansed by your arms,

or remain still,

missing the age when you were venerated, too?

Do you boil with rage that people come from far away places

to wreak havoc on your banks

and disregard the humans you love

for metals that make them gilded?

River,

mi vida,

you already give so much.

But, can you tell us how to make people listen?