I stand silently
beneath the pale bluesky
I am overlooking the beautiful valley below
A path winds down near the roots of a tree
It goes downward ,along the sandstone hillside.
I followed the path a short distance,
Winding gently past tall old trees.
In the rock ahead is a tall opening
Leaves falling gently, being blown by a breeze.
I heard the spirits of my family thats passed, call to me.
As I was drawn to this place, and felt so alone
A natural echoing , of the sounds of the forest.
I enter in with hopes of finding my ancestors home.
As I walked, quietly across the shadowed soil,
looking at the places where my ancestors had been
They worked and slept, laughed and loved.
And this was the land where it all had been
Near the center was a large block of stone,
It had small ones all around the entrance section,
Its surface was inscribed with symbols
Of the sun, the snake, and the four directions.
Nearby I sit on a huge rock,
Its surface pitted from the breaking of stone
And the drip of water from the ceiling's edge.
I felt someone was there but i was alone.
Yes perhaps by someone like me had been there,
A wanderer returning home.
I close my eyes and imagine I can hear voices of old ones
Talking about the past and the struggle to come home.
As I sit there thinkig and daydreaming
of the children and women who made this home
With playing and laughter so loud
Then sitting quitely while the others prayed for a home.
As the old and the young together as a family, as a people,
Their stories and songs are stored in these crevices so tall.
I feel that I have been here before,and that I belong,
I am part of this past and tear rolls down my cheeks, and falls.
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