At one
Time
She found herself among the
Loneliest of speckled clouds,
Hanging by the power of a lightning bolt
To the desert land below that
belonged
To the People, to the O’Odham:
Generations of the Nahuatlaca.
They who had traced her trail,
The echoing footsteps,
Tracks that took
A moon time to appear
And disappear,
Blown back to stardust
By the wind
From the
Sun.
The OrigiNations met,
Formed assembly and adopted
Positions,
Caring for them as if they were
Their own children, which they were.
Particular places where these,
Their children,
Could once again,
Twice,
and then as before,
Emerge reborn –
Eyes clear and
Focused
On the shimmer of her
Sweeping skirt
In departure over the horizon,
Leading the way
Home.
Tupac Enrique Acosta
9/20/02
#WorldWaterOne
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