the first born of dawn woman
slid out amid crimson fluid streaked with stratus clouds
her body glistening August sunset pin
light steam rising from her like rain on warm rocks
She came when the desert day cooled
and dusk began to move in
in that intricate changing of time
she gasped and it flows from her now
with every breath with every breath
she travels now
sharing scarlet sunsets
named for wild desert flowers
her smile a blessing song.
And, in mid-november
early morning darkness
after days of waiting pain
the second one cried wailing
sucking first earth breath
separating the heavy fog
she cried and kicked tiny brown limbs
fierce movements as outside
the mist lifted as
the sun is born again.
(East of Acoma, a sandstone boulder
split in two—a sharp, clean crack.)
She is born of damp mist and early sun.
She is born again woman of dawn.
She is born knowing the warm smoothness of rock.
She is born knowing her own morning strength.
~ Luci Tapahonso