Raspberry spines
prick my skin
but do not harm me
as I gently dislodge
you from stones
and soil,
praying out loud
for permission.
You thrive here
as the Bears do
under tall red pines
and lichened boulders.
Aspens, Spruce, Juniper
all murmur
love songs
on Changing Woman’s mountain.
Is that why they call you
a Rainbow cactus?
Were you there
when She was born
under soft deerskin
pulsing with a whole
spectrum of Light?
Did the Bears watch you
From swaying tree tops
offer generous blessings
for the gift of your life?
I step so carefully,
so as not to crush
your little village
thriving under my feet.
I gather you as
a small family, believing
you need to grow together
to thrive.
Your roots are shallow
hugging jagged rocks
at odd angles.
I feel amazement –
Such tenacity.
I note your need for protection
from merciless west wind and sun.
Yet you thrive with so little –
a blessing from the Cloud People and you
burst miniscule roses from thorny skin.
I imagine a waxing frog moon
overflowing with pride.
I found a bear paw
not far from where you lay –
White flint worked
by those who once
tread lightly
on sacred ground,
soul heart and body
bound to each rock
and tree.
(Bears still leave
their marks on smooth
white aspen bark).
The People
spoke in tongues
most can no longer hear.
Oh, my grateful heart
sings praises for this
precious body that
vibrates
ancient strumming sound…
Your collective Voices
vie for my attention
as I move effortlessly
through the veil,
bowing my head
to acknowledge your
Bountiful
Grace.
Time gathers herself around me
False lines and boundaries
disappear.
I am so easily comforted by Now.
If only I could stay here…
When I wend my way
down the mountain
with a prickly clump
of your people,
I am filled with Light.
Perhaps Changing Woman
was right –
Her children’s father
was a round rainbow cactus
after all.
Working notes
Yesterday I visited the mountain that once called me to this place, although I couldn’t name her then… three years later I am drawn back again and again to this Mesa forged in Light to gather stones made of the flint that was traded throughout the Americas by the pre – Puebloan peoples.
The Powers of Place embrace me again and again as I climb, hearing voices, and I am filled with wonder…
In Navajo mythology Changing Woman – she who grows old and young again but never dies – was born under a rainbow of light created by a myriad of colors – orange, gold, gray smoke, ebony, pink and burnt orange – of the stone called chert that is found in a single band that stretches around this mountain. This flint was worked into tools that were traded throughout the continent…
Changing Woman (parthogentically) birthed two boys who left her. When they asked about who their father was she retorted that maybe he was a round cactus! (a tongue and cheek response?) Their grandmother later told them their father was the sun but my guess is that their real father was a prickly round rainbow cactus that grows close to the ground on the slopes of Changing Woman’s beloved mountain, the mountain where she was born.
This “marriage” was one woven from Light, tenderness, thorns, and tenacity.
(Meet Mago Contributor) Sara Wright.