In Acoma
In Acoma,
up on the mesa
called Sky City,
water will
collect in sacred
hollows after
rains and wait
for bowls to bring
it back to one
adobe building
where a potter
uses it
to mix her clay
with ancient shards
before hand-coiling
seed pots, vases,
and an olla
like the Mimbres
used to make
one thousand years
ago, to place
upon a table
selling them
to tourists just
like me. No part
of this is separate
from the other,
even as
I’ve chosen
not to buy,
but like the earthen
colorful
designs she painted
on the pot,
they represent
the holy, greater
than the parts
themselves. They touch
the moon and wander
past the planets,
stars, and end in
The Beginning.
~Son Rivers 2008
No comments:
Post a Comment