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Posted

Someone on the inter-web yesterday was asking people to describe Mesa Verde in one word. Can’t do it. But I can describe his question in one word.
Impossible. This morning I scribbled this down and read it at the monthly Spoken Word open mic night in Cortez.

 

The Mesa

 

This magic scene of rock and shadow and pinion pine

I stood at the base and my gaze lifted toward the heavens

I wondered what the ancients thought

When they stood in my place those centuries back in time

 

A home? A castle? Perhaps a refuge in the sky?

A place for raising families, and crops perhaps

A place of worship protected by the gods?

Did they envision homes of stone in places eagles fly?

 

I travelled then from base to top and I saw then what they had seen

To the south, a rock with wings rose majestic in the desert

And to the east a river flowed from white topped peaks far away

Places near and distant painted strong with colors brown and green

 

I walked among their houses in the heights hewn from cave and solid rock

Just simple tools they had but used with spirit, drive and strength

Inch by inch the houses grew. And storage places for coming drought

Then the round worship kivas formed the sun and stars their only clock

 

Imagine winter with warm fires burning. Families together in the stone

Snow and wind and hail and all of winter’s fury unleashed

Colors of grey and white replaced blue skies and red earth

A group of families in the wilderness. Struggling, surviving but not alone

 

With spring the hunts commenced. Wild game for food and hides and tools

They learned the habits and trails of deer and bear and elk

Crops were harvested and storage places overflowed

They carved and painted. Danced no doubt. And preyed. And hoped. They were not fools

 

And as the centuries spun by and earth and sky revolved and changed and changed again

Their trials were great. The challenges immense. Tragedy and triumph

And yet they persevered. Thriving in some years. Tortured in others

Until at last they stood alone. No hope. No enemies. No friends

 

And so they left. Perhaps en masse or one by one over the years

And over time the homes and kivas stood abandoned in the sun

Abandoned in the rain. Abandoned in the snow. Silent sentinels now

Monuments to a peoples lives and hopes and fears

 

We no not what they called this place. No evidence of that we see

They may not have been concerned with names as we think of them

For centuries this place stood unknown till other people ventured here

The called it the Mesa Verde,  Green Mesa. That should be good enough for me

 

But how do you condense such a story of success and privation so high above?

How can you boil it down to two words?

The building and improving and problems faced and solved?

The children raised, the sunrises viewed. Births celebrated and deaths mourned

Songs sung dances danced. Games played. Smiles and tears through the centuries

 

No. It would take some very special words to name such a place.

Words that I don’t have and probably never will be able to utter

But they’re in my heart

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Posted

And I dressed appropriately 😂

IMG_7882.jpeg

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Posted
13 minutes ago, Dusty Wyatt said:

Great job! Really liked it.

Thank you.

Posted

Our Poet Laureate!

Posted

UB,

Unless you have experienced Mesa Verde,a person can't truly appreciate how perfectly you captured the spirit of such a place.

Wonderfully expressed!

Thank You, Sir!

Choctaw Jack

  • Like 1
Posted

Thank you

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