Tending my body in the wise woman’s house
I watch my loose hair go down the drain
In Santa Fe

Two days previously
I watched my hair strands blow from my fingers
In Chaco Canyon

Mostly brown, with some silver
As I listened to the quiet morning
My five year old son, thankfully, sleeping in.
This much needed time of solitude
Surrounded by the ghosts of an ancient past
I remember a ghost from my own past
Me
When I first took interest in Southwestern Peoples
After a trip out west
At the age of 15.
A quinceanera? Perhaps – not really
But an important time for me.

A rite of passage.
Away from family. Exploring.
Learning who I am.
And crushing on life – a guy
Landscapes and wildlife
And maybe even myself.

I am finger brushing my hair
In Chaco Canyon and all time is one time.
Past, present, and future are all happening
At once
In the spiral.

We came to the park from the south entrance
My son and me. On an incredibly bumpy road.
I wonder how impressed the Ancients
Would be of modern life.

But in Time and Space
I originally entered the Canyon from the East
In New York City
At the museum of natural history

I saw the jet black frog with eyes made of turquoise
Behind the plexiglass case. And imagined.
I read about the Chacoan Roads
And Staircase
Before pulling in at the turnout
Staring up at the cliff
And marveling at the wonders of people working together

My son keeps asking why
We can’t go behind the ropes
As he recognizes more sight words
No Entry
And I read the longer signs to him
The line that sticks with me is:
No offerings

Being in the canyon
With the wind and the Ravens
Those two birds followed us
Throughout the day.
Watching us as we watched them.

A part of me felt at home
With the ancient ghosts.
Farmers and builders and artisans.
It’s what draws me towards Myth
And Folklore.

No offerings.
Instead there is one of those donation boxes
In the Visitor Center
Displaying dollar bills.
How come no 5s or 10s
My son wonders

I don’t put any money in.
Instead, I pay attention
Or try to.
And remember
That time and space are malleable
And circular

And while many women know this
Instinctively.
Men need reminders and guide posts
Like standing stones
Or kivas.

I may have been raised in a dominant culture
In America. A patriarchal culture of fear & war
In my heart I live elsewhere in the spiral.
I float there in my dreams
At times.
There is a connection to this place
Through me.

In that place
I may leave an offering
Elaborate or simple
Long lasting
Or not

A poem.