Dusty Memories by Joseph Begay

Dusty Memories

By Joseph Begay

Sometimes walking helps.

It stretches my mind.

I think about the old people.

White haired and frail.

Or

Wrinkled faces with dark eyes.

“Do not forget us,” they say.

I remember a hawk crying out,

A rabbit running scared,

A coyote yipping to his kin

But mostly I remember the songs,

The drums, the sweats

Where men pound the earth

To say “We’re here, this is our land.”

It’s best if it rains a little

Then walking among shadows

Smelling sage and cedar

Burns me down to embers

When only a little flame remains

Of whatever bothers me,

The center of me is tied

To my people,

My land,

My home.

Advertisements
Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s