Never Gone

Tuzigoot is an ancient Native pueblo near Clarkdale, Arizona. We visited there in 1967/68 and as we walked through the open corridors and rooms I had the very distinct impression of being surrounded and even touched by the pueblo's original inhabitants. I have a lot of Native (specifically Six Nations) ancestry, have spent a lot of time immersed in my culture and I've had this "sixth sense" since I can remember. I perceived these "spirits" as friendly, even welcoming, but the pueblo walls themselves seemed sad. 

Later I wrote this poem, and contrary to poet Billy Collins' 'write it and leave it' advice, I've honed away at this one since the 1980s when I first wrote it for the poetry unit of a university creative writing class. 

A City Without Her People

Tuzigoot; 

Ancient crumbling walls

A thousand years have framed the sky

While the century plants below

Have flung their blood-red flowers

On the sand.

Tuzigoot;

Wind-gnawed woman

Cradles silence like a suckling

Mothers ebbing echoes of the people

Who thronged her days and nights and

filled her time.

Tuzigoot;

Keeping patient watch and

Listening still for drumming voices

Thump of loom, crackling fires, 

Cry of birth and lilt of song to 

lift her wings

Tuzigoot;

Lonely walls imprinted, 

With the touch of many lovers

Empty pueblo, weaves the wind into 

Crumbling memories

©️ Deborah Cavel-Gréant 2020