from high plateaus,
roving wheatfields, wind
that blows from all directions-sometimes, all at once.
I am from dirt mixed
with blood, memories
unreachable, unthinkable,
unmistakable human fragility
and strengths cannoned
into one being.
I am from the smell of oil
caked dirt, acrid cattle shit,
snow so fresh the land devours
it in giant gulps that spew
forth mist, inhaled, leaving
lungs frostbitten, minds
yearning, listing toward
spring thaw.
I am from creek beds
layered with dinosaur bones,
fossilized cottonwood seeds,
corn tassels, Cheyenne Indian
arrowheads, hope.
I am come come come to being,
a part of this place
that birthed me
into this time
where fibers of my insides
carry cells regenerated
regenerating
by generations of eating
dirt in all its glorious forms.
I find I am
roving wheatfields, wind
that blows from all directions-sometimes, all at once.
I am from dirt mixed
with blood, memories
unreachable, unthinkable,
unmistakable human fragility
and strengths cannoned
into one being.
I am from the smell of oil
caked dirt, acrid cattle shit,
snow so fresh the land devours
it in giant gulps that spew
forth mist, inhaled, leaving
lungs frostbitten, minds
yearning, listing toward
spring thaw.
I am from creek beds
layered with dinosaur bones,
fossilized cottonwood seeds,
corn tassels, Cheyenne Indian
arrowheads, hope.
I am come come come to being,
a part of this place
that birthed me
into this time
where fibers of my insides
carry cells regenerated
regenerating
by generations of eating
dirt in all its glorious forms.
I find I am