Original Land and Mother

mother
the skies are soft
clear
and drifting through the valley
where I grew to my womanhood
in your knowing ways
by those golden fields
along the winding road

I am still that girl
with the long tangled hair
of our tradition
and chubby thighs
running through the dusty field
following that white dog
to the fence line horizon

the fat grass hoppers jumping at my feet
as the golden grass parts before my legs
the creek in its green belt
parting the dry and cracked land
babbling a little song behind me
as I run to the stones left as glacier marking posts
to the formation of these grazing hills

mother
your crooked smile is calling me to the kitchen
the skies open as birds leap to air
and the ghosts of dark haired children
laugh in the distance
I am racing down to the barn long collapsed
my jeans covered in dirt
and my fingers clasping delicate wild daisies
painting the fields in spots of white

in that place I grew
in that log cabin I watched your hands knead the bread
with a strength I longed to have
the yellow bowl of many years
catching up the flour for the days events
and the corn grew by the window
as you chased the bears from your fruit trees
the big truck lumbering to life
the wood pile defeated for the day
and my brothers' dirty work boots
tracking up your clean floor

mother
now I have grown
my femaleness slipping red between my legs
I have my own home
in a city by the sea
grey and dull in these diffused skies
where the rain turns the dirt to mud
and everything is green
singing a sweet cedar song
to the ocean tumbling down to the bay
I have seen the city rise up and swallow the sky
in glass and steel
I have seen men dieing in the streets
their hands out before them
and their eyes gone for the haze
here the wild animals hunt for garbage
and the grasshoppers drown in puddles

my feral joy is in those hills still
and I pray it dwell in my heart tonight
mother
I have found in my age that this original land
has burrowed deep down into my skin
and I am remembering
you crouched down in the garden
talking to your tomato plants
and me
ready to be alive
in the slow golden moment
of those cloudless skies