For Our Mothers

This post is dedicated to my beautiful mother. Although I am here, fluffing my nest on a rainy mountain day, and my mother is several states away (and possibly sitting out in the high sunshine) I am thinking of her and sending a heavy basket of love her way. Could we ever show our mothers enough gratitude for all that they have birthed? Take time today to recognize the many generations of life givers that have made it possible for you to sit here and just be. Every mother is worthy of wonder and praise. Thank you!

To my great greats, and my grandmothers, my mother, and our mother earth: Thank you! You are loved and appreciated!

^^^

…and now for one of my favorite Luci Tapahonso poems. For years, I have maintained such a vivid picture in my head of this poem. Two generations of women out walking, arm-in-arm, under the stars. Looking north to the place of elders and ancestors, seeking the night like the comfort of each others company. I love how you can see the wisdom–passed down in moments of levity and suspension– hanging and sounding around them like bells. So beautiful.

A Song for the Direction of North
Tsaile, Arizona

The sky is a blanket of stars covering all of us.
The night is folding darkness girl.

Just after midnight, we walk in the cool mountain air.
The stars glisten so.
Their bright beauty makes us dizzy.
Laughing, we bump lightly against each other.
I hold my daughter’s arm.
We walk slowly, still looking at the sky.
The night is folding darkness girl.

Those few star in the north seem so close.
Maybe they are right above Buffalo Pass.
Underneath the stars, the Lukachukai Mountain
lies dark and quiet.
It breathes with the sacred wind.
Clearly, clearly the barking dogs echoes from miles away.
Right there under the pine trees,
the shiny, smooth horses snort and breathe loudly.
The night is folding darkness girl.

The Milky Way stretches wide and careless across the dark night.
It is a bright sash belt with thin, soft edges.
The night is scattered thickly with glistening specks
and blinking orbs of light.

In some night spaces, there is no order.
“Coyote sure did a good job,” Misty says
We laugh, and I love my daughters so.
The night is folding darkness girl.

The house sits strong and round against the base of the mountain.
In the dark stillness, slants of moon and starlight
wait within the curved walls for white dawn girl.
Slants of light wait for white dawn boy.

Ahshénee ‘wéé, t’áá kóó neiit’aash dooleelée.
My beloved baby, if only we could stay here.
There is no end to this clear, sweet air.
To the west, immense rocks lie red and stark in the empty desert.
Somewhere my daughters’ smooth laughter
deepens the old memory of stars.

Each night, I become Folding Darkness Girl.
Each night, I become Folding Darkness Boy.
Each morning, White Bead Girl arrives.
Each morning, White Bead Boy arrives.

Luci Tapahonso
Blue Horses Rush In

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