So I went to the Tesuque Pueblo feast day today and was so completely struck by the rich ancient culture that is still practiced today. And I wrote about it so here it is.
Nestled in the cradle of the mountains,
ushered by holy unwavering tradition,
lies the ultimate patriotic hymn.
Red burns fiercely in paint
adorning solemn faces of strength.
White beats quietly in moccasins
that massage the Earth in sacred dance.
Blue billows against long black hair
as hand-woven shawls sway in rhythm
with the women on whose shoulders they rest.
Drums and voices and stomping feet
undulate unity, power, grace, a spiritual force:
an anthem to a binding covenant
to stay true to the roots
of the land and each other.
This hymn refuses to fall victim
to changing times
to the ignorance and brokenness
of the “land of the free and the home of the brave”.
These people are dancers,
and testaments to a vast perseverance throughout history.
These are Americans.
And their song makes me proud to be one.