Turquoise Woman

(for my sister, Kathy)


Carolyn Dunn

December's starlight,
cold, clear
vacuum of night
and your cry
whispered and rose
in darkness
upon the heated encounter
of creation.
Like stars,
from which you came.

The night was filled
with promise.
New hope
for the coming year.
That year
you were the best and brightest star,
at your birth.
A drum burst forth,
with star centers, glowing,
and when they asked you back,
you came.
The spirit willing,
flesh waning.
And I am left here.
Mountain Lion
tore at what was
the best of me,
his teeth upon my lip,
pulling the truth of the drum
from my mouth,
from my power,
where once spoken
words are truth
and never, ever
can be taken back. And Bear---
he held me in his arms,
pinned me within
his clawed reach
where I could not escape
his breath upon
my face.
Covered me
with his tongue
and you watched,
eyes flashing
from a sea goat's tail.
Horse touched the small of my back,
with his eyes
that were his hooves
and his hands
echo inside
the emptiest part of me
where you once lived.
I look up to the stars
to see you, in winter,
but you are not there.
Your house isn't empty.
Perhaps it is Eagle,
father of twin sons,
one with turtle shell rattles,
singing to Mourning Dove,
The other
with turquoise dangling
from both ears,
eyes to the sky
wings at an angle
to catch the light
in your eyes.

From Outfoxing Coyote, That Painted Horse Press.

© 2001 Carolyn Dunn

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