HERDING
After we have eaten our morning food,
my father and my uncle
ride down the steep trail
to the Trading Post.
My mother kneels beside her loom
before the cottonwood shade.
I see the sun on my mother's
brown hands.
I see the sun on my mother's
black hair.
I give my mother a long look,
then I turn my back.
I walk to the sheep corral.
My feet are brown.
My feet are bare.
The wet grass parts
to make a way
to let me pass.
I walk to the sheep corral.
My skirts are long.
My skirts are many.
The flowers move back
to make a way
to let me pass.
I walk to the sheep corral.
I let down the bars.
The sheep go first
and I follow.
The sheep walk slowly
for they like to eat
the short sweet grass
under the trees.
I walk slowly
for I am lonely.
Things here are strange.
I am afraid.
I know that my mother sits
before our shelter
weaving a blanket at her loom.
I know she is near me,
but I cannot see her.
I can see only tall trees
and bits of sky.
I am a child of the yellow sand.
Mesa top and pine trees,
green grass and colored flowers
are strange to me.
Unknown things live here.
I am afraid.
I creep to the edge of the mesa
while my sheep are feeding.
Far, far below me
is the world I know,
the yellow world
of sand and wind
and sand.
Far below
I see sheep walking,
someone's sheep walking,
in a dust cloud
of their own making.
Far below
I see a sand whirl
made by an angry wind
fighting the land.
Far below
I see the heat haze,
colored heat haze
blanketing the desert.
I see these things
through tears
for they are the things
I know.
I am lonely without them.
Here on top of the mesa
is a strange world
of shadows and water
and grass for the sheep.
Grass for the sheep,
I had forgotten that.
Grass for the sheep
to give them life,
to make them strong.
Here on top of the mesa
there is grass for our sheep.
Surely the gods are good
who live here.
The sheep drink slowly.
Shadows sleep.
The quiet of the mesa
pushes against me.
I can feel it, heavy, heavy,
it pushes against me.
Surely, the gods who live here
are known to me.
The words of the Holy Song
are known to me.
"On top of the mountain
are found the gods."
These are the words
of the Holy Song.