Secrets in Plain Sight
An old woman hides
in the garden. Her young self climbs into the car; we drive at high speed backwards down the mountain. We are dark women become white witches, unchurched nuns, contraries, clowns. A blue bowl on the table is a womb, the night sky, the cave where wild children sleep. Roots, the rings of a tree, a yellow leaf fallen into the pond, the essence of the tree before it was made, the sound in the mountain. At Chaco Canyon a crossroad orders the world. Where mesa ends and Badlands begin, new pots are broken on the stones below, making and unmaking, offered to the Spirit of the North. A hidden maze carved behind an angled stone pierced by arrows of light at solstice and equinox, joins earth to heaven - secrets in plain sight repeated over and over - the world that was and still is. |
|