"Murmur of ancestors"

Trips into nearby Utah mountains where we like to play, often makes me think back to times of the past. What took place here? The blood and flesh of my ancestors call out to me.....

 

"Murmur of Ancestors"

                                 

 

Mountain breeze 

blowing warm 

up valley slopes.

 

Aspen leaves flutter

 

in steady waves of golden hues.

 

immersed in natures symphony

 

Crescendo!

 

As the rustle of leaves

 

tell of chipmunks play,

 

and the splash of clear cool brook

 

meanders down mossy trails.

 

I hear the murmur of ancestors

 

the rhythm of the drum and dancers

 

of past celebrations.

 

Pine trees whisper secrets to the wind

 

as hawks nest in their branches.

 

Hidden valleys used long ago

 

to shelter the camps of

 

Black Hawk's band.

 

Leaving behind the buried cradles

 

of still-born babies,

 

among the bones and flesh of

 

loved ones - disintegrated.

 

The valleys and mountains remember....

 

the streams carry the arrowheads

 

of mighty warriors down to lush meadows.

 

Listen carefully to the stories

 

told by Mother Earth and Father Sky

 

of the first inhabitants of this land!

 

 

Author's Note

I am forever grateful for the sacrifices of those before me!

Reviews

[emmajoy]

' As the rustle of leaves - tell of chipmunks play, - and the splash of clear cool brook - meanders down mossy trails. ' For me, those four sentences are for the little one, the pleasure of hearing and watching... so lovely.

Tis extraordinary how extreme sadness can read so beautifully; how heartbreak can recall the past and the companionship of ancestors-ever lingering in their old terrain Your Life's lessons never fade.. never..

[Jaweena...Eileen Quintana]

It was comforting for both of us to know that Ute ancestors found protection in those same mountains and canyons long ago. The Wasatch mountains kept them safe and hidden from enemies many times. The unused cradleboard was placed back in the trees where it came from. I visit that place almost every summer and ponder upon the special spirit that lingers there.

[Jaweena...Eileen Quinta..]

Yes...Our first baby girl was stillborn, she would have been 18 years old now. We had to take the Cradleboard that her dad carved out of the pine tree back to the mountain, since that was made specifically made for her. It was hidden on the side of that mountain soon after we buried her. Like the bones of her Ute ancestors, the pine Cradleboard will disintegrate back into the soil. The trees, streams and land remember her and will never forget the joy and excitement that expectant parents felt when they made preparations for their first baby, nor will it forget the loss, sadness and tears of bringing back an unused Cradleboard.

[Jay Steitler]

"Pine trees whisper secrets to the wind"

Both these entities have secrets to tell, if you listen intently. This poem is beautifully vivid, and I can hear that brook! Wonderful!

[Riley]

I am of another country. Another geography. The same earth...
I can relate to this. The beauty. The reverence. The tragedy. The one thing that stuck out most was your word "disintegrated".. It carries heavy overtones.
And yes: keep the stories alive!

Thanks for sharing Jaweena

[Coyote Poetry]

I listen to the wind, the river and the animal of the forest. I agree we can find our elders telling us to sit with them in the forest or by the old river. I like the photo and wonderful story.
"I hear the murmur of ancestors
the rhythm of the drum and dancers
of past celebrations."
Thank you for the amazing story.
Coyote

[MOON]

Nature remebers the wrongs of the past , the ancestors sorrow. Really haunting .

[Chris]

Spirit is more than one person's belief... It touches the wold at whim and with Will. It shapes our breath and vision... and holds each with care and hope.

Your words hold a world that awaits within the shadows of tomorrow...

Take care,
Chris

[An owl on the moon]

There is such a depth to your reflections... thoughts drifting back across the miles... across the centuries... the world whispering the song that played in those days gone by... Beautiful and lifting are your connections...

[Robin]

your words have poured through my soul Jaweena , your voice speaks with clarity .

[John Jackson (El Juero)]

We are so entwined, you and I. My Great Great Grandparents were on the "Pioneer" side of the Black Hawk War of the 1860's. I've often wondered about going to Ft. Duschene for a healing ceremony.
Beautiful writing. Thanks for taking me there...
I loved the line 'Pine trees whisper secrets to the wind'.