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SAS-NOS-TEES MESA
By Mary O'Gara
In my back yard,
Shiprock Tse’Bit’a’i’, the winged rock
Kept watch over mesas and valleys
Where sheep followed goats all day
And I walked at night
When the snakes were asleep
And watched Anasazi long dead
March their lights down the mesa.
At sunrise I climbed a chimney,
Stepped over the Navajo-Ute war wall
And looked down where there was no path
Except at night
For the Old Ones.
Copyright © Mary O'Gara May 1, 1996
MEMORIES OF A
BURNING
By Mary O'Gara
She beckons
Eyes flashing hand pointing
The way the path
Through mist like smoky veils
Faces hands nameless hands
Lift fire to the wood at my feet
Dry wood flames catch
Lick wool underskirts
Wet from a winter in witch cells
My feet are warm again
As close to their heaven as I am like to get
And it wasn't the fire killed me
That time
Just the smoke.
Copyright © Mary O'Gara May 1, 1996
Copyright © 2008 Mary O'Gara