man went to work, exacting dominion
over the fishes of the sea
and the birds of the air and the beasts
of the field and the woman of his rib.
but everything with breath
would prove far too much.
on the sixth day
God saw we must soon be loosed
from the Garden of our own foolishness –
to learn lessons in humility
from a land we have yet to tame.
next to this vast expanse of rock and sky
we seem a mere afterthought.
seal
your chamber,
or busy my heart
with counting books
and divvying plates,
tea cups, knives –
those menial tasks
of moving on.
For I cannot help
looking back –
at an empty nest,
a barren womb
that longs to swallow
you back into itself,
to swaddle again
its infant bourn.
Amniotic trust,
liquid hope
and all my dreams
go up in flames.
I become
a pillar of salt.
knew a hard day’s wage,
a fitful sleep
too well.
Too long
since last
the earth gave forth
a fruitful crop.
Too long since rain
last fell.
His means were lean,
the cattle thin,
his wife thinned milk
with water --
hoping the children
would not notice
and think their bellies full.
Before the white man came,
claiming what belonged only to God,
We, a native people, flesh of the soil and water of our homeland, understood,
understood the order of our birthright – that we inherited nothing;
our survival would depend not on might, but on humility,
on harmony, on unity, on brotherhood with this land, our Eden and our hunting ground,
on respect for the mountain, the river, and the valley of the mighty buffalo.
Swallowed are the many miles, the civilized white man having swallowed,
the mouth of progress an insatiable abyss.
