soaring down ice caved roads
ancient land steeped in Ponderosa pine,
howlin rains gather along the divide
aftermath from monsoons past.
enfolding each day of living,
foggy breath emits lifeforce energy thrusts,
while Zuni Poets assemble at El Morro Peak
intently discerning the calls of red-tailed hawks
soaring high above.
it is a long climb vertical to reach those forgiving clouds,
where a solitary traveler breathing from one nostril at a time
wayward here in this high desert country,
casts prayers with each of her pony’s gaits,
pleas for further clouds to shelter her.
then what vision beckoned White Buffalo Woman this way,
what drive exhorted her onward?
this once younger girl
was led this way on horseback,
this woman now fertile,
never again to be stricken by drought.
in this country of too many horses without riders,
this country of too many children without fathers,
for this subtle traveler
there is too much distance inside her heart
to recall or imagine
a way back home.
8/4/75 (originally written)
Ramah, NM