You have been there before, I know.
And, I think you go there in your dreams,
You go off to where, it seems,
The purple mesas rise with dawn,
On the horizons hover long,
Delighted by their own mirages,
The Trickster waits,
The Trickster’s hidden,
Behind a boulder, not forbidden,
First Mother’s there, behind it all,
One thousand times older than yesterday,
Looking over our shoulder.
Long, blue shadows lie below,
The great, magnetic mountains,
Across the sands,
Across the lands,
Green with copper and yellow with uranium,
Red with rage,
The bones of the earth are all exposed,
The black magma showing her age.
The caverns yawn with echoes of memories,
Droughts and floods,
Etchings on the trails,
Made by Kachina’s dancing feet.
They never miss a beat.
Hidden in the landscape,
Disappear and reappear,
In another place,
Start a barefoot race,
Kivas in the shadows,
Towers hidden from the angles of the wind,
And, the white clouds, soft and thin,
Dissolving in the blue sky, under the midday sun.
With us or without us,
The world still rages on,
At dawn, it seems,
My lovely dreams,
Are very nearly gone.
I have followed sandy footsteps from 40,000 years ago,
I have followed stars and spirals painted on the ceilings of caves,
Red hand prints and thirteen petaled flowers.
I have followed goats with rectangular eyes to feed on datura.
I have followed run away rains into the sky,
And, there they left me high and dry.
Now, I am falling into canyons filled with cactus flowers and spines,
I am falling into quicksand rivers lined with tamarac and vines,
I am falling into love, with places you and I, together, have been to.
And, I am falling more and more and more, in love with you.
Written by V. Castellanos – April 5, 2020