Classic Poem

We saw the place where the Ansazi lived. They weren't
There any longer. But the fitted stone walls were,
And the wind, and those kivas sunk in the ground
Where the men sang to the belly of the earth.
To sing like that must have quieted them.
It would have quieted me. After hours like that
In the kiva, when I came up the little ladder,
I would have turned to my mother, maybe bowed,
Brought her a basket and some gifts from the hills.

You could tell they liked earth by the way they set
The kivas so close to each other, like egg cups,
And the way they put windows into the stone walls
In such a way you see through four or five houses.
These people weren't tired of carrying rocks
And they weren't tired of being people either.











From Poetry Northwest, Spring 2006. Copyright University of Washington. Used with permission.