Fortress Rock is, as I said, was one of the places
where some of the people took refuge
during this removal period.
"Refugees in our own land.
Darkness and the approaching headlights
make the blood memory in us run out the back door
into the royal behind grandma's house.
Huddled, we wait.
We are fast-forward refugees from Fortress Rock.
The night is busy with the growth of stars above us,
peaceful.
Shiyáázh, my son, fusses in his cradle board--
the protective rainbow shaped by his father
arches over his face to protect him.
In the dark sand below, monster slayer's arch enemy
rises again to pull us off this rock
where we've taken refuge since winter's approach.
The wind stops, clouds drift across the moon.
We pull water silently from below, near the soldiers feet.
Silence is our cover.
I pull my son close and place my hand on my baby's cheek
to quiet him.
Ssh, shee'awéé', shiyázhí.
Ssh, hush, baby.
My beloved, hush.
With my finger, I circled the pulse just above his ear.
He makes tiny lapping sounds with his mouth
and turns toward my breast for the comfort of my milk.
But my breast is a sieve from which the enemy drinks.
I have dried.
These hands that makes dough for the evening meal, that
planted corn and gathered pollen from the tender shoots--
this hand held my husband's kisses
and caressed my son's baby soft bones as he grew inside me.
We sailed the river that led us to the ocean of all beginnings.
The night cries like an owl.
My beloved's eyes are full of stars, a drowning
breath in his throat.
Take the map of rainbows and fly.
Fly, baby."