i have a great plains laugh
it floats across the prairie and collides with the rockies
who then echo it to me but it sounds different
it says: remember where you were born
i was the desert child, the sagebrush serenader, the coyote caller
rendezvous with the cheyenne
and the other little girls put ribbons in your hair
i tattooed a dreamcatcher on my arm
the feathers pointing in each direction
so that i can always find my way home
to the place where my father stood and said,
today is a good day to die
i knew sitting bull before sitting pretty
and images of bareback warriors protecting the tribe
lulled me to sleep in the thud of the wild mustangs hooves
i have crossed deserts, meadows, mountains, and oceans
to get away from my white (wo)man’s burden
drowning my trail of tears in firewater
but there you stand
speaking for the mother whose voice we can no longer hear
once again saying,
this is not yours
she is not ours
