Sky Touchers

A few weeks ago when we were in the mountains of central New Mexico I came across this phrase "sky touchers" as something the local indians, the Jemez, the Zia, and others, who lived in these mountains historically referred to themselves as. To me it was such a beautiful metaphor for the whole spiritual quest. But also a reminder of what happens when we make spirituality something so grandiose and other we miss the heaven on earth right before us. Perhaps, because children are nearer to the ground, they are better at remembering this. These are my musings of how they live their lives immersed, satiated, saturated; living out prayer.



Dear children,
We came here
For sky touching.
But instead
of star gazing,
you wanted
To eat dirt.

We wanted to see
A mountain lion.
You have caught a caterpillar.

We ask
where does the river lead?
Inevitably,To your feet.

We hear the hollow
And haunting sounds
Of the wind
in the ruins.

You catch it
And make it whistle
Through your mouth
Through your round flute
Through your laughter.

Camp song

Little sound sleeper
In my arms
I watch your breath
Move you
Up and down
On my chest

Soft and full
Those clouds
Hover in the still air
Breaking up the monotonous sky
Lingering And swelling
they will
Bring life on
Desert peaks

The notes
On a blank paper
The songs of my sky.

Allargando
Repeat
Fromada, fromada, fromada
Rest.