Hello, little crescent moon.
Good morning icy March wind.
Good morning house wren’s sharp trill
in a sleepy indigo sky.
Good morning oak branches
pointing out directions.
Are you all here to remind
one lost Indian woman to ask
for help from the Ancestors?
Yes, I have forgotten again.
Yes, I went to sleep last night
thinking I was forgotten.
Good morning cold air
bathing me like a newborn.
Good morning sun whose steady approach
pushes indigo to robin’s egg.
Good morning, Ancestors whose spirits
watched over me last night, my body
curled in a child’s vast sorrow.
Saleki asatsa. I’m here at last. I’m
here again. Saleki asatsa, matsa.
Saleki asatsa, ashi.