In the Monastery Garden
—for Hopi Chief Dan Evehema 1893-1999
Thousands of miles from your mesa, I walk this garden.
Earth Mother
Indigo up to my knees will make dye.
August makes black dye sunflowers bow their heads.
Sky Father.
I brush tulsi, “holy basil” used in Ayurveda, perfuming the air.
Sun.
You knew these squash, corn and beans well.
You knew the prophecies and tried to reveal them to us.
Masaw, guardian spirit, here in the burdock’s plumes
that sends purple wisps into the hot wind
bringing change to us, but not to you.
Tonight, I will return here under the Moon.
Kachinas, invisible but felt, have something yet to teach me.
After harvest, before winter, we will dye new kasaya to wear
So many gods.
So many ways to pray.
by Lianna Wright
from Poets Online Archive