Chaco

Penasco Blanco, Chaco Canyon
July, 1054 a.d.

Nothing is as it was
all changed now as the land absorbs
the light of this new star burning
by day.

Always the heavens    
have directed us
homes and shrines in accordance
that we not live against the grain
of the cosmos that we become
integral
part of pulse and flow
but this new presence shining above
what can it mean?

The people look to us     
but no priest
can explain. Concerned faces in the village
quiet confusion in kivas
fire messages blaze nightly and
runners run the roads.

Sandstone pressing
into my back I lie
on this ledge with my paints
record mysteries of the sky.
Below, the wash        
all appears
as it was but the
bright light brings wonder brings fear
will the rains continue to love
this place?

Sun, I paint
moon in crescent, fiery star
my palm into pigment pressed
against rock acknowledgment
Nothing is as it was.