by Ethel Mortenson Davis to the Navajo
I’ll bring a peach sapling
for you–
for the peach trees
that were cut
and burned.
And I’ll bring seed corn
for you–
for the corn that was pulled
out before it gave birth.
I’ll bring two lambs
for you–
for all the sheep
they killed and laid
at your feet
there on the ground
with your tears.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
He came to do plumbing work,
bringing an elderly man
with him.
If you have a job
in Indian country,
then you must support
an elderly person
or a relative.
Last year
the young carpenter
who came to do work
brought three elderly workers,
paid them out of his wages.
They spoke Dinè
to each other,
quietly,
throughout the afternoon,
finished their work
and then left
for the long, winding road
toward home.
The plumber dropped
the old man at his home—
because this is
the “Indian way.”
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
A pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis
fourwindowspress 