Walking the Same Ground
You climbed through a hole in the Earth’s
surface, through height, cold, beauty,
through depth, heat, emptiness. I climbed
to greet the sister who fell from the sky,
just as a son rose to meet me.
Gods gave us the power of dreams.
In fabricated photographs, we press our selves
into ceremony as crown dancers bless the way
before us. We watch tobacco smoke take prayers
to our creator. I stitch sacraments together, mourn
black markings on sleeping birch trees. Ancestral
wisdom passes through four lives. I pause
on the fourth agreement with land, consider this
code unbroken. With hands hungry for light, I cast
a new body in mud. Bones vanish in imagination
and I learn to dance backward, to hear the gentle beat
of footsteps, to bring forward spirit ancestors, to walk
the same ground.
From "Theory of Illumination" a chapbook of poetry by Valerie Poulin.