Tachia Hawk Sandoval

the shadow peoples ..

as father sun climbs into the morning sky
lavender light spills across the land
chasing the shadow peoples away

they hide in the crevices
and beneath the ledges
trembling
thinning themselves into nothingness
hoping he will not see them

I am one of the shadow peoples
afraid of the light
of things seen too clearly
it is only at night
when the sharp edges of life blur
and go quiet
that I can think

what have I done to turn the gods against me?
I blink up at the frayed clouds
glowing against the tattered haze of sunrise
a woman has lived too long
when she has lived to see the end of sanity

far too many truths have been plucked
from the safe warp and weft
of the chimayo blanket spun about me
leaving frayed holes of lies
about the ways of my peoples

the white mans world seized a loose thread
and now it is all coming unraveled
and with it
my own sanity

in my mind I see the paintings of my peoples
on the red rock cliffs
I am nothing more than that
a thin drawing
colors dabbed on the stone face of life
I can feel parts of myself flaking away
fading
just as paint made from flowers
fat and charcoal
did after too many searing suns

emptiness

Why must i to speak my words into emptiness .. ..
and receive only the wind as a reply .. ..
ThunderBird laughs and blesses me with the morning rains .. ..
the water mingles with my tears .. ..
and chills my flesh so deeply that i burn within .. ..
and shiver in my bones .. ..
my words wither away in the dark light of early dawn .. ..
and all around me is emptiness .. ..

tachia: for auroara .. .. :)

peace below .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
the black plastic clock hangs on the wall .. ..
dripping time in measured ticks in perfect rhythm .. ..
with the dripping blood .. ..
the soulful cry of mirabal's flute .. ..
burns within blood and memory .. ..
the air hands cold around my body .. ..
breath comes in shallow gasps .. ..
ice burning my lungs .. ..
my feet are numb
in these machine made white mans moccasins .. ..
sadness and despair hang much heavy upon my face .. ..
the weight of who and what i am .. ..
literally dragging the skin down .. down .. down .. ..
sinking into the void .. ..
the great nothing .. .. ..
i am standing in the snow .. ..
high on the cliffs .. ..
of my sacred red rock canyon .. ..
on the edge .. ..
darkness before me .. darkness behind me .. darkness above me .. ..
i stand cold in the darkness .. ..
peace below me .. calling .. beckoning .. .. ..
the life feathers in my hair .. ..
hang heavy .. crusted over with ice .. ..
not to flutter ever
in a soft warm spirit wind .. .. ..
i stand cold in the darkness .. ..
brother hawk circles above .. ..
silhouetted against the black sky .. ..
by the faint blue light of grandmother moon .. .. ..
i stand cold in the darkness .. ..
arms raised .. fingers stretching .. towards the darkness ..
grasping the void .. feet together at the edge of the cliff ..
toes toughing naught but air .. .. cold air .. .. ..
i stand cold in the darkness .. ..
eyes gazing in awe at the hawk .. ..
free fall .. ..
i join him in flight .. ..
peace below me .. .. .. .. .. ..

The corner â€¦

The wind blows ..
scattering thoughts..
her heart bleeds ..
her soul cringes ..
her spirit dies ..
the silence mocks her ..
time runs red ..
she hates ..
she haunts ..
she rages ..
she aches ..
she wants to die ..
she wants to live ..
she does not care ..
she wants ..
she needs ..
she loves ..
she does care ..
it does not mean anything ..
it is sand blowing across the weathered rocks of her life ..
it is sun scorching the distant cliffs in her mind ..
it is blistering heat burning her spirit to ashes ..
it is death ..
it is peace ..
her mind swirls and reels seeking safe harbor ..
against the onslaught of fears ..
long buried beneath the crashing waves of other years ..
and other lifetimes just like this one ..
she dies a bit more with each moment that passes ..
the flames of desire dwindling to mere embers ..
the fires of promises once burning so brightly ..
blown wildly about by the winds of words ..
scattered embers race across memories ..
she cannot catch them ..
they burn her hands as she vainly tries to scoop them into her pockets ..
she has lots of pockets ..
they give her comfort ..
they keep her from harm ..
they make her fear ..
they try to kill her ..
the contents are of life ..
of hate ..
of love ..
of death ..
some she takes comfort in ..
reaching her hand in to stroke the contents with pleasure and love ..
others give her naught but pain and fear ..
these she crawls frantically away from when they beckon ..
seeking a far corner of her mind within which to curl herself tightly into a ball
and crouch in fear hoping they cannot find her there .. ..
words are given ..
words are taken ..
words caress ..
words kill ..
words are used as weapons and there is no where to hide from them ..
they can scream even when but spoken softly ..
or be but a whisper even when screamed ..
words twist and turn on the speaker ..
warp in the mind of the listener ..
words kill ..
words give life ..
words die on the lips never to be spoken yet echo loudly in ones head ..
words fuel the fires of hate ..
words calm the fear of the small child ..
words .. words .. tis only words ..
sticks and stones my break my bones but words will kill my spirit .. ..
she wants to fly ..
she wants to die ..
just her and a gun and a pocket full of fears that found her corner .. .. .. .. .. ..

tachia: A time of her own .. â€¦

Time runs red with the blood of fear ..
time runs frantically forwards ..
time circles endlessly like a vulture ..
time stands gasping on the edge of sanity ..
time is the mind killer ..
time is the enemy ..
she does not kill time ..
time kills her ..
some man in some far off place turned time into something to be feared ..
he broke endless waves of harmonious time into tiny little segments so that they would fit his idea of life ..
he chained time in increments of seconds, minutes, hours, days, nights, weeks, months, years, decades, scores, centuries and millenniums. Eons of time to fit mans whims ..
the ways of man ..
time is short ..
time is money ..
time is wasted ..
time is deadly ..
the clocks of man drip time in tiny drops of blood onto mans barren life ..
time void of meaning ..
race the clock. ..
meet the deadline ..
rise and shine ..
wake at this time ..
work at this time ..
eat at this time ..
sleep at this time ..
time set in motions so small ..
time dying ..
time held captive ..
a slave to man ..
how ironic that man thinks he is a slave to time ..
time savagely beaten and twisted to fit the confines of mans small mind ..
your wasting time ..
the time is now ..
time waits for no man ..
timelines and fine lines of time ..
why she asks .. why? ..
in a world within her mind ..
time is a friend ..
time is all she has ..
time is all she has ever had ..
time is all she ever will have ..
time shows her the secrets of the universe ..
time is purple ..
time is love ..
time waits for her ..
time envelopes her ..
time stretches into eternity with wings of gentle motion ..
time slows ..
time stands still ..
time is forever ..
she holds time dear ..
holds it softly ..
loosely letting it swirl lazily around her ..
time warms her soul ..
time speaks to her spirit ..
time echoes with the voices of many ..
she wallows in the luxury of time ..
wraps herself in it ..
lets it run rampant and free ..
she tears time free of the slavery to man ..
gives time the place it deserves ..
she speeds across the galaxies in the embrace of time ..
time flows and ebbs and seeks its own route ..
she has no desire for the crashing waves of time man has created ..
she seeks only the solace of her own time .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Tachia Hawk Sandoval

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