Breath of the Hopi

 

Then I will lay here delicately 

     In the grass

Upon the earth, ear to the silt 

  wrestling it into my palms. 

As forlorn is the ashy dusk, 

  Prayed upon your temple land, 

I rest, 

  Upon thee. 

Not a heavy heart but one stone still

In the silent creep 

  Of shock and resilience 

     alarming sirens across the cities. 

Stone still, 

  To your flat soil, hair soaking in the dirt, 

    Spirit unified 

      as no movement at all. 

My breath is as seamingless as the void within it.