No dwelling is permanent
Nor should it be so.
The World Trade tipi
Did let us know.
Lodge poles come unbound
Skins and canvas rolled around.
#
Elegant monuments inferior,
Sun, wind and wave assault,
Breaking up our ideals,
The Spirit weeps at the tumult,
Fine dust blows in a cloud
Coating the lungs like a shroud.
#
In a cave, the Pueblo, and bears
The womb of Our Mother
The tall buffalo grass too,
Her Spirit moves like an otter,
The gather-round saw it clear,
“Break camp, move away from here.”
#
Throw back the flaps, let in the light,
Smoke ascends, the river’s gurgle,
Follow my flow, accept the ebb and the wave
Warriors all, yet you struggle
Accept the truth, that you live in me.
Rapids or calm, in me alone, you be.
Greensboro, NC 9/13/2020
I woke up thinking of how people so treasure permanence over all things and that this is most manifest in our dwellings. Sentient beings are bound to, and by all things.
We can struggle or we can flow. But we cannot change our situation, our nature, or the nature of all things.