to give up her blood
as I lower my needle
to her flesh—
this compass
still searching for true north
while the map shudders
in my trembling hands
and a songbird hidden
in a bush by the gas station
sings about something
impossible.
THE BRIDGE OVER THE CANYON
There is a way back
even if the bridge is broken
over the canyon.
I may have to go
the long way around
or down—
clinging to the rocky sides,
finding invisible footholds,
balancing carefully between
courage and safety,
remembering to breathe
as desire brings me to the riverbank
knowing I must swim across
despite the deep currents
if I am ever to find you again.
TWO HERONS IN AUGUST
I turn
at the edge
of the lake—
two Great Blue
Herons swoop,
each around the other
in mid-air
til one flies
east, not far
from my face
while the other
goes west,
and settles
in the water
eyeing me
through the green pine
and the yellow grass
like Sky-Woman
fallen to earth
from Ga-lun-la-ti.
SKY-WOMAN REMEMBERS
I loved strawberries
before I knew why.
They were so red,
they caught my eye on the path
as I stormed away from First Man—
because he had made me so angry!
When I tasted them, they were so sweet,
they reminded me of his love.
I wanted him to taste them,
so he could remember mine.
When I forgot all my anger,
I knew my Father
had thrown them down
through the hole in the roots
of the Tree of Life that stands
in the middle of Ga-lun-la-ti—
and soon enough,
I conceived.
FIRST MAN SINGS TO FIRST WOMAN
Sky-Woman, beauty,
the light of the Tree of Life
still lingers on your skin—
you are the picture of peace and harmony
when I watch you putting berries in your basket,
your tear-dress untied and open
when you cradle our baby to your breast,
and the milk of life sweetens his tiny tongue
in the morning when you sing to him of Ga-lun-la-ti.
I remember that place! How strong-willed you were,
climbing into the branches of the forbidden tree
and then crawling into the roots.
I remember watching you as you fell
through the hole in the roots
toward the shining ball of water—
I remember Turtle Island rising up to catch you
as the birds brought you safely to his back
and suddenly, new life sprang up at your lightest touch!
Sky-Woman, beauty,
you are to me always new, always life—
and my love for you is endless.
MY CHEROKEE CHILDHOOD
By blood, I was bound to Cherokee sisterhood—
She Who Shall Rise Up cut first her finger and then mine,
and we pressed them together,
Cherokee-daughter to Cherokee-granddaughter
not knowing our mother was Sky-Woman
and the roots of our Tree of Life
grew down into our veins
from Ga-lun-la-ti.
USQUANIQDI
Miracle-child,
