( Sleeping Beauty Mountain, Arizona)
Each one sees you differently
Each one sees you differently
sleeping in granite.
I perceive
a maiden
crowned with leaves,
her hair
flowing into long arms
that fall into
the folds of her gown.
Daughter
of high priest or chieftain,
your spirit is
restless
under this sarcophagus
of stone. Your silhouette
looms, casting
a legend in the southwest light.
You were the girl
who stretched
skeins of sky
and water across the earth
and left
traces of turquoise in its rock.
Only chosen
midwives and shamans
were meant to
seek this resource
and learn of
its power, its purity.
Only desert hawk and tortoise
were assigned
to guide the way.
Wings and
shells. You thought it would be enough
to grant the freedom
of such knowledge
and shelter it
with a healer’s awe. But others came.
Miners and
settlers, merchants and surveyors.
They all came without consulting
their conscious
or the summit
where you dwelt
and still continue to dwell.
A maiden
crowned with leaves,
her hair
flowing into long arms
that fall into
the folds of her gown.
A maiden whose
hands clench dust –
breath of a
talisman.
1 comment:
Wendy,
This is haunting leaving us with the 'talisman of dust.' Oh yes, how fitting, the molecules of memory there.
It's nice to visit you here on your blog, in your space. Peace and coolness to you.
xo Mokihana
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