A poem displayed at the Native American Heard Museum in Phoenix, Arizona.
Native American history is a rich topic, but I struggle with it. Ancient history I’m all over. Native American history is too present with signs of the crimes and dishonor done to various native tribes in the U.S. all around.
And through the thick veil of generations of crimes, I have trouble imagining vast tribes of humans living peacefully in the pastoral way associated with the time preceding the intrusion of Europeans.
This museum was excellent, and a special exhibit on the history of Indian boarding schools was fascinating, wrenching, and provocative. And the restaurant was good. Food in the belly first, THEN I can ponder and absorb.
Don’t Touch
by Cecelia Nuñez in When it Rains
“Leave the horned toad alone!”
My grandmother said.
Does she tink I want to touch him?
Red eyes,
long tongue,
rough skin,
Horned toad, leave me alone.
