|
She Who Watches
by Alison McKenzieThe land had been burned,
The recent scars of charred foliage still soot-black.
The basalt stones seemed unaffected;
The new-growth blackberry vines
Sprouting defiantly between them
Determined in the scorch of
A late summer sun
To bloom again, to offer fruit
To those who dared venture
Beyond the thorns.
One large, blue dragonfly
Danced over our heads.
The Elder leading the hike
Unfamiliar with his medicine or message.
Tsagaglal, She Who Watches,
Greeted us the same way she greets
All who pass –
Through infinite eyes,
In the language of unspoken cautions
And ancient majesty.
I am only a ridiculous white woman
In a world where these stones speak to me
Of family, history,
And home.
09/11/2010 Author's Note: Saw the ancient petroglyphs today on the stones near to where I live.
Posted on 09/11/2010
Copyright © 2024 Alison McKenzie
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 09/11/10 at 08:27 PM I'm glad they did speak to you, and I'm glad you were able to respond with so much astonishing, beautiful imagery and in such a clear, resounding voice. Wonderful. |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 09/12/10 at 12:17 AM ...stones make sense, so do you...a lilt all the way thru and the capstone ... Of family, history,
And home. |
| Posted by Ken Harnisch on 09/12/10 at 04:18 AM You're not ridiculous, Alison, if you can hear the music and the words in the stone and nature herself. |
| Posted by Joe Cramer on 09/12/10 at 04:59 PM ... quite outstanding..... |
|
