I wrote this poem after attending the opening reception of “My Father’s Father’s Sister, Our Ancestor Shimkhin”, at Chachalu Museum, Grand Ronde.
°•°•°
That little spirit Frog that whispers to my mind,
The Hummingbirds of my heart,
The Flicker on my breast,
The knocking of the distant Woodpecker,
Who stores the acorns of thought & memory,
A whistle of the high off Osprey,
Holding a mangled snake in its shining ocean washed talons,
The waves . . .
They grow loud in my ears when the spirit is talking,
I see them in full color,
Those bright ones of flesh & soul,
Up there speaking humble words now,
Ringing a gentle bell held between just two fingers,
They know the power of the bell they hold,
Did you hear it?
Like lightening’s flash on the edge of the rainbow,
When Creator told our desert kin about some things,
He rang a bell in the sky,
A sound we had never heard before,
Old Man Coyote was once a handsome stud,
Full of mischief,
Has he not shown us his growth,
His wisdom,
His power,
His trans-form-ation,
Watch around as the world seems to crumble,
In that transformation,
Do we finally see the truth of things,
Like riding the ocean canoe on a star-lit night,
Faith full of forceful fears,
Did Coyote not tell you yet?
A rainbow on a misted pond,
Where underneath those coiled serpents tails fear not the talon nor fang,
A mirrored pool of sacred water,
On its axis you find the way inside yourself.
