Tuesday, April 1, 2014

A Poem for National Poetry Month


and leaves only the ashes of her old self

behind. She plunges into the dark

future from the glare of her funeral pyre

that brightens the sky of her past

for miles and years and leaves a legend

told to generations of children

of a vast golden one whose gleaming

body rose from the burning corpse,

blotting out the moon

with huge wings beating against

the burning air to lift the dead

ground to the living night sky and fly

through the moon to a new place

with new people where she could be

new herself—until the destroyer

strikes again. Like a hunting eagle,

she lands, claws outstretched,

golden crest and feathers lost

in transit, her wings already disappearing.

She grows backward, smaller.

Now she can only crawl

into and out of shallow holes

in the ground of this new life.

Still, the wise avoid trampling her

for they know

she drags death behind her.

Published in Heart’s Migration (Tia Chucha Press, 2009).

Just finished the last of a bunch of grant applications. Tomorrow on this blog, Effigies II, a new anthology of poetry by Indigenous women edited by Allison Hedge Coke.

REPLY TO COMMENTS (since Blogger still won't let me comment on my own blog)

Reine, I'm sorry to be late responding to your lovely comment, but I lost internet right after posting this and have only just gotten it back. I'm glad the poem resonated with you. xoxo 

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