I wrote this after I saw a picture in a travel magazine
showing an Isleta Indian who resembled my mom.
Red clay sculpted in sorrow
imprisoned artifact of the Southwest.
Adobe lies crumbled at your feet.
Your children, fragile tumbleweeds,
adrift on the desert sand.
Adorned in silver and turquoise
you sell your sacred traditions
along the white man’s road.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
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