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CrowA crow screamed me awake eyes peircing my dark head perched on a tall pine with river as my witness carried me by my long hair to the top of the mountain. Unprepared for the snow-covered summit I froze into sleep. A crow creamed me awake and I saw her born in a January wind thrown down from the ancestors without warning. Brown body, black eyes and hair of a father unknown. Her grandmother caught her held her up to the sun and gave her a name. A crow screamed me awaake: "Look down on your people!" Eyes heavy but opened I Watched an ocean of Indians swimming The Trail Where They Cried. Little Big Horn, Sand Creek, Wounded Knee, Alcatraz. Anna Mae, Tina Trudell, Leonard Peltier, Bob Robideaux. Green corn dancers bare brown feet,ankles thick with turtle shells caressing the red earth. A crow screamed me awake years later, she fell scraping not just knees but both elbows bleeding. I stood her up, covered her wounds with tattoo bandaids of the sun of roses and stars. A crow screamed me awake in the arms of my grandaughter bones of my bones heart pressed to my heart buried in my breasts a song sung between us refusing to let go. |
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Issue #25, February, 2002 :
Santa Fe Poetry Broadside.