The Footracer's Blood; Dootlizh

The Footracer's Blood

To look at you now
with almost a century on your side
still willful enough to hold up your own limbs
conscious enough to know those who visit
or even attempt conversation
an inquiry into your mind
and ponder at your daily mental activity
and history.

I am limited by my tongue
though you still hear my voice
in the actions of my daughters
and I hear your voice
tucked away in the folds of your sly smile and hidden chuckles
that light up your eyes
a light I have seen before in three daughters.

This language we speak
connects our blood lines
through male lineage and contribution
transformed into female clan mothers
living out your blood
continuing the race
over Dinétah landscape
and LA freeways
and the English language.

Your tender skin
silky smooth
as an infant's
tells your life journey
in the creases and well-formed lines.
I hope to see you again through my children
and be in your good company once more.

 

Dootlizh

Christmas day
we sat at the ocean along the Southern California coast
welcoming the loud voices of the waves
making our own anger seem ridiculous, a tantrum

flowing our salty tears into a wall of unsaid sayings
rolling waves of mist
pounding surface into sandstone
smoothing over silken sand.

How fascinating the light glows
crystal in places
deep with envy in others
and still dark with mystery, like the language

within
steaming true colors
or maybe not
dootlizh.

Navajo language
where blue is green and green is blue
churning a color into living water, an ocean
or perhaps union...

Jiní
It has been said
Dinétah was once ocean
so it is not strange that I married a sheepherder who

rises at first light and prays
tends his flock
knows when to shear and
how to butcher.

Dootlizh
like the churning waters
Dootlizh
like the churning waters.