Clay Wolf

 

She, Clay Wolf leans, sheep-hide door curtains life

terracotta litters, pots not painted, clay slumps

silent hands don't reach

                              Navajo morning halting breath

 

Razor tongued Wasichu's preaching

cast aside your earthen ways

Words pouring like sugar

                              slicing, barbed wire cuts

 

Bent and stiff, woman and wheel

gnarled hands fumble mud, kick wheel pushed

red earth spins, swirl, swish, scratch

                              singing it’s song.

 

Wasichu's hate showers

lambs bleat Navajo 

fallen whispers, we will find you

                              yours will be ours

 

She hums halted notes, wet clay scents air

red slips between fingers, Grandfathers words

haunt, they will come, I know this to be true

                              I have seen this

 

New dwelling and hogan, quiet content

two paths blended, old light calls

Navajo dawn whimpers, morning chant

                              soon all will be gone

 

Earth swallows and trenchers bite

we are here, we have found you

what is yours, is ours,

                              tears of dawn lost

 

Razor tongued Wasichu's walk smugly

She, who is Clay Wolf

memories oula sealed

                        old woman’s walk blows to dust.