Poem: “Land Sky, Land Sky”

Artwork by Joan Snyder

Land Sky, Land Sky

A grandmother whispers to me 
blowing pink flowers and white snow from the palm of her hands 
into my face.

Passing down the knowledge.

What kind of wisdom does a swan store in its wings?
Why do golden hawks come to me in my dreams?
How is it that little hummingbirds vibrate like thunder?

I miss flying.
When I sit on an airplane I can see mist
and the bottom of clear lakes.
I can see my planet
and be closer to the sun.

I miss flying.
So I meditate with the moon
and the dawn
and the forest
and my favorite mountains.

My sheets are dirty and it’s raining.
My red scarf rests on tired shoulders.
My heart has a thousand fires in it.

I search for home 
in buildings and roads
in seasons and smiles
and sidewalks
and songs.

Have you ever 
watched two birds fight and thought, 
you have the whole sky
why would you do that?

I wonder if they look at us
and think the same.

If you could start a festival,
what would you celebrate?

I, for one,
would celebrate the sky.
Land and sky.