I stand where Jane, Rachel and Indian women once stood,
The mountains, sky, earth and streams, are the same they saw,
and did they dream as I dream? Did they dreams of some coming woman? A me?
Jane, pioneer woman, eking out a life in a cabin by the stream,
Conceiving, Carrying and Bearing her eighteen children
On this same spot. Did she dream as I dream? Of me?
Or was she numbed by the cruel days and nights
Of ‘making do’ with ne’er a moment to stop and just be woman?
Did she dream as I dream? Wonder? About some future woman?
And that sweet, child-bride Rachel, alone in a family of men.
The mountains, sky, earth and stream the same, but . . .
Did she dream as I dream? And wonder of someday wives for her sons?
I see countless Indian women, standing where I now stand,
Seeing the same mountains, sky, earth and stream, and ask
Did they dream? Did they dream and wonder? Of other women?
Now, I stand where other women have stood before me,
Circled by the same mountains, sky, earth and stream,
And I, too, dream and wonder . . . but I dream of them. Jane, Rachel, Indians.
The eternal mountains, sky, earth and streams are the same, but
I see a highway at my door, golf course, not pasture, Ipod in every hand.
I wonder and dream . . . of the peace and quiet no longer here.
Bewildered, do the mountains, sky, earth and stream ever wonder, too?
March 8, 2015