fieldston american reader volume i – fall 2007 - Ethical Culture ...

Native American PoetryWHEN SUN CAME TO RIVERWOMANthat timein the sunLeslie Marmon SilkoLAGUNA PUEBLOWHERE MOUNTAIN LIONLAY DOWN WITH DEERI climb the black rock mountainstepping from day to daysilently.I smell the wind for my ancestorspale blue leavescrushed wild mountain smell.Returningup the gray stone cliffwhere I descendeda thousand years ago.Returning to faded black stonewhere mountain lion lay down with deer.It is better to stay up herewatching wind’s reflection in tall yellow flowers.The old ones who remember me are gonethe old songs are all forgottenand the story of my birth.How I danced in snow‐frost moonlightdistant stars to the end of the Earth,How I swam awayin freezing mountain waternarrow mossy canyon tumbling downout of the mountainout of deep canyon stonedownthe memoryspilling outinto the world.beside the Rio Grande.voice of the mourning dove callslong ago long agoremembering the lost one remembering the love.Out of the dense green eternity of springtime willows rustle inthe blue wind timelessDESMET, IDAHO, MARCH 1969At my father’s wake,The old peopleKnew me,Though IKnew them not,And spoke to meIn our tribe’sAncient tongueIgnoringThe factThat IDon’t speakThe language,And soI listenedAs if I understoodWhat it was all about,And,Oh,Stirred meThat strange,SoftlyFlowingNative tongue,SoMy childhood ear.the year unknown unnamed.The muddy fast water warm around my feet you move into thecurrent slowlybrown skin thighs deep intensity flowing water.Your warmth penetrates13