Thursday, March 11, 2010

HOPI POEM

In a trance state she told me,
“Study the Hopi,
they knew how to raise crops on dry land.”
Even with my eyes open I visualized
Beans, Squash, and of course, Corn.
Startled, I heard her continue,
“You were Hopi once.”

Hummm, not such a stretch.
I “know” that I have walked this land in red skin.
It was quiet then.
The flow of life dictated by the natural seasons;
always considering the necessity of securing our survival.
Homes with fireplaces, warm beds, strong foods,
these were ours.

The sky was blue, filled with clouds,
water ran clear and pure,
the sandy soil, hot in the summer sun.
Children laugh and play outdoors.
Books? We have storytellers and imagination.
We have storms to read and animals to teach us.

But even I must admit.
It is easy to remember only the good parts
as I walk in the memory ~
warm and cuddled by my downy comforter
… on my white soft mattress
in my sweet room with clear glass windows.

* annette

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