Hopi-Tewa Poems

Old One

At dawn he makes his way down
Mesa cliffs
At dusk he makes his way up
Morning comes, he makes way to his destination
Only a dot-speck we see of him
as he labors his fields
We children frolic along Mesa tops
Evening comes, he makes his way up top
Loloma he sings
Qua-Qua he sings
As he shares his fruits of the day with us children


Above I stand on Mesa tops
Across I see faces of cliffs
Each cliff has a song
In the Plaza the Kachina
line in line
They each take their turn
at song
Loloma they sing
Qua-Qua they sing
It is good to be alive


I dream I flew across the Hopi skies
Soared through the rainbow clouds
Turned, tucked and tumbled
and fell in your hands
Smelled the dew and brush below
From the Mesa top I lower my gaze
walk into the womb of mother
Calm and warm as its spirits
carried my weight around
There's streams, traces of banks
that run through the ancient paths
Falling to my knees, deeply I drink
'til the sparkle hurts my eyes
Laying on my back and staring at the sky
the stars know my name
Lomahongva they say and sing
My eyes close and drift slowly away
The breeze blows in another day