finding invisible footholds,
balancing carefully between
courage and safety,
remembering to breathe
as desire brings me to the riverbank
knowing I must swim across
despite the deep currents
if I am ever to find you again.
TWO HERONS IN AUGUST
I turn
at the edge
of the lake—
two Great Blue
Herons swoop,
each around the other
in mid-air
til one flies
east, not far
from my face
while the other
goes west,
and settles
in the water
eyeing me
through the green pine
and the yellow grass
like Sky-Woman
fallen to earth
from Ga-lun-la-ti.
SKY-WOMAN REMEMBERS
I loved strawberries
before I knew why.
They were so red,
they caught my eye on the path
as I stormed away from First Man—
because he had made me so angry!
When I tasted them, they were so sweet,
they reminded me of his love.
I wanted him to taste them,
so he could remember mine.
When I forgot all my anger,
I knew my Father
had thrown them down
through the hole in the roots
of the Tree of Life that stands
in the middle of Ga-lun-la-ti—
and soon enough,
I conceived.
FIRST MAN SINGS TO FIRST WOMAN
Sky-Woman, beauty,
the light of the Tree of Life
still lingers on your skin—
you are the picture of peace and harmony
when I watch you putting berries in your basket,
your tear-dress untied and open
when you cradle our baby to your breast,
and the milk of life sweetens his tiny tongue
in the morning when you sing to him of Ga-lun-la-ti.
I remember that place! How strong-willed you were,
climbing into the branches of the forbidden tree
and then crawling into the roots.
I remember watching you as you fell
through the hole in the roots
toward the shining ball of water—
I remember Turtle Island rising up to catch you
as the birds brought you safely to his back
and suddenly, new life sprang up at your lightest touch!
Sky-Woman, beauty,
you are to me always new, always life—
and my love for you is endless.
MY CHEROKEE CHILDHOOD
By blood, I was bound to Cherokee sisterhood—
She Who Shall Rise Up cut first her finger and then mine,
and we pressed them together,
Cherokee-daughter to Cherokee-granddaughter
not knowing our mother was Sky-Woman
and the roots of our Tree of Life
grew down into our veins
from Ga-lun-la-ti.
USQUANIQDI
Miracle-child, Usquaniqdi,
your mother and her sister are calling your name!
We are wearing our tear-dresses now,
for we have walked that Trail.
You are so young, so we will sing to you
the stories we have hidden in our baskets.
We will teach you to plant strawberries
for your wife to find in your garden when you are grown.
We will kiss you in the light
that comes down from Ga-lun-la-ti!
For you are our treasured one,
the one the Great Spirit gave
when he breathed new life into you
with the scent of orange blossoms.
DAUGHTERS OF AFRICA
Mother Africa!
Seated on a stool,
wrapped in kenté cloth,
one baby on your back
and another at your breast,
with the whole African continent
framing your body
like a magical map:
I see your glory,
I enter into your story,
singing the names
of my twin goddaughters,
Akweley and Akuorkor!
Reina and Reneé,
the first a queen,
the second Reborn—
the hope of the future
that cannot be lost.
POCAHONTAS SINGS
I can’t tell you my secret name. Only
my father names me by that name.
I can’t show you how I ran naked before
I was eight or the deerskin skirt I had
at twelve. My turkey-feather winter-cloak
is gone like the sands of time dripping down
the hourglass you keep on your desk.
But I can show you the pot my mother made
with her own hands from the earth by the river
before my father, the Pohowtan, sent
her away to live with another man
in another village, and I never saw
her