Among the hillside ruins,
they found a woman's skull --
ancient in age,
bronzed in tone.
Her facial bones angular
and her teeth intact --
ground smooth
from chewing on root and bark,
mincing nut, seed and
grain.
She clenched the earth's yield,
gifts of a wild garden,
and for that, her tongue
scribbled gratitude
along the mouth's cavern.
Praise to grass and
soil,
tree and stream.
Her skeletal head
becomes our lamp
lit by awe, burning off
shadows of the unknown.
We touch her, our fingers probing
the polished relic
for clues.
A song of how sparingly
we lived -- so long ago
when we wore the land blessed
as fertile cloth
belted with stars
and pinned together with rain.
No comments:
Post a Comment