The Earth Forgets


Enlarge

they buried their elders by firs and pines,
but the good earth has sucked back their bones,
washed the soil clean.
they who came from the umbilical cord
of tragedy, from gallows and gunshots.
they lamented the world's sorrow
from the lap of the Mother,
her sacred songs and insistent eyes.

today their children walk down main street.
some hung by disease, alone.
others hop into law offices, catch cabs,
wear skirts, suits.
yet they still stroll their tribal lands
embracing others.
they see ancient faces painted on river rocks,
spirits to take them on journeys,
make them run like horses, dive like gulls,
invigorate their sky with visions.
they who rode the sacred groves,
wandered the Oregon valleys,
crossed the fertile lands,
and the craggy Steens and Wallowas.

today the vast land hosts big houses,
timber yards, glass factories,
cowherds, industrial stacks,
paved roads, restaurants,
and five-star hotels.
rivers host jetboats.
ski lodges offer up hot toddies.

Earth forgets with ease.
auctions off sorrow for so little.
these first peoples bang upon the air,
drum with their eyes.
weave their hearts into sacred robes
and feathers. find the summit snow
and the distant wilds where they were born.
the voices of their long gone elders speak
like sunflowers, like tree roots,
like angels.
they rally.
it's true. the vast lands have forgotten them,
though they not the land.

I'll Love You Till

sharks jump
out of the water, dance
and tell me what life is like  
beneath the seas.
crooks return all they stole,
and you and I
never have to do laundry again.
so hang on
for a wild ride
in this small and beautiful world
on the wheels of a great love.