Western Winds This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.


Mother Earth, can you hear me?
through the clicking of yourbrown beads
against your heavy chest and the scraping
of the old mano ymatate?
i am small, like the crumbs in the lap of your navajo blanket
andquiet
but i am ready - like the Indian frybread baking
between the stones,and i am listening
can you hear me, Mother Earth?

i have seen the wayyou pull back your black hair
and some gray streaks, into your big silverclip,
the turquoise stones are small like me; i counted twelve of them
ihave watched you scrub away the dust from between your toes long after the sunhas fallen behind the hills
the long sharp grasses still swaying andwhispering
Mother Earth, what do they say?
how does the sun wilt like aflower, and then
grow again the next morning like a fresh seed?

i knowyour stories, sung deep in your secret voices
like the creases in your palms,rubbed smooth
with oils of the earth
i know your eyes, black and stern
but forgiving like the thick straw
your skin I know too
red, like theclumps of earth in the shade
brown like fraying strings of your old wrap
my skin is the same color, newer and a little rounder
Mother Earth, canyou hear me?

i hear you




This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback