The Earth Forgets


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they buried their elders by firs and pines
but the good earth has sucked back their bones,
washed the soil clean.
they who sang sacred songs to the Mother.
who came from the umbilical cord of the Earth.

today they drum. dance their rituals.  
hold their feathered headdresses close.
pitch long blazing cries.
yet they wear suits and ties. drive trucks.
travel Greyhound. walk, talk, sell insurance
and craft their wares.
but they know the old ways.
the coyote's eyes still smile at them
when he trots the land.
and the woodlands cast their spirit
upon their bodies.
they see the old gardens,
shoreline villages and fishing nets.
and their fathers and mothers
who rode the sacred groves,
wandered the Oregon valleys,
crossed the fertile lands,
and the craggy Steens and Wallowas.

today the vast land holds ranches,
timber yards, glass factories,
fenced fields, industrial stacks,
ports, docks, 24-7 restaurants,
and five-star hotels.
now rivers run jetboats.
ski lodges offer up hot toddies.

Earth forgets with ease.
auctions off sorrow for so little.
these first people hear the voices
of their long gone elders.
voices that affirm they are still a nation.
voices in the sandy soil,
the green pines, the night air.
they speak with gentle promise.
carry a brave face and a vision
along salmon filled streams
beneath the life giving sun.
the vast lands have forgotten them,
though they not the land.