Ongoing Contributor, Manny Anthony Moreno Shares The Tree - Drum - Poetry from a Yaqui Elder...

 

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The Surems & The Talking Tree: Yaqui People's Legend

Decided to go ahead and post here--it's worth heading to YouTube...

THE TREE 

A twig from an ancient tree was planted in this valley

 one hundred and eight years ago

 with grandparents' post-migration arrival

 propagated with a labor of love and dream songs which

 sprouted roots rich 

with indigenous sacred hope,

 and over decades this twig branched-out

 into an ancestral tree 

lush with a heritage of scattered leaves,

 

some have prevailed on the railroads farm fields

 and overseas warriors in battlefields, 

some have crooned and swooned

 on saddles of assimilation

 not total though to gain an education, 

some have hummed commitments to heaven

 in humble jubilation,

 some have whistled weary in whirlwinds

 on life’s meager means,

 some have not forsaken chanting

 enchanted traditional ancient cosmic conscious themes, 

and now in this soul-deadening 

out of balance Y2K millennium

 infancy 

I reflect in the autumn years of my being 

standing somber in the shade of our tree; 

what will become of it and me?

 For the tree expands into five generations

 perpetuating a pristine perpetual dream

 in this valley reality

 like enormous hawk wings 

encapsulating us with a shade of simplicity

 celebrated in a social status of invisibility 

and I native son shy of eloquence

 irrigate the tree with common words 

to nourish-in nutrients of this life force

 flowing in crimson canals of flesh

 in the fertile soil of San Joaquin

 in the plants and critters

 in the rivers and pulses of little towns

 being shredded for progress

 and malls in the decades 

deciphered from a million memories

 fertilized for posterity prestige

 and dignity of the tree and landscape

 and panorama of our souls. 

From my first book The Bridge Is Gone

Drum

 My hand drum made of buffalo hide

  in sis’ Atwater apartment on a glass table

 cradles the sun and harbors the moon

 next to photo of dad by the window

 each time I pass 

the drum woos my weary eyes

 I try not to notice 

no matter how much it cries,

 still, this heartbeat of the people

 powerfully works its way into my conscience

 flooded with thoughts too heavy to mention

 I know someday

 when my sullen spirit surfaces

 from the ashes of dreams 

dosed in flames

 when my eyes again penetrate

 through clouds of doubt

 then together

 heartbeat of the people

 we will ceremony in harmony

 in the sun and in the moon .

I believe it is important to learn more and more about other people such as we learn about through poets and other creators of historical blessings. May you find a way to learn and you will quickly realize that in all the important ways, we are all the same - God's children...

Donations. ( Art and books) - The Elder- A Tribute / 12.00 / 4.00 shipping

@monolin

thank you.