The sun beats down on tin roofs,
a fist from God. The One who
made the cactus flower and
needles to protect it.
Two boys lock eyes at 70 mph.
The bronze one stands still,
surrounded by flowers and needles.
The blue one flies by, protected from
the fist and needles...if he finds
God's open hand, it will pluck
the flower from his grasp.
A boy can learn all he needs to
know at 70 mph or standing still
or running scared. A boy learns
who is already lost and who will be
in the end. He learns tomorrow
is a block of granite, today is
a ticking watch, and yesterday
is for the dream catcher.
A boy learns on the Rez.
He learns the future can be a souvenir,
or a trinket, fool's gold, nothing at all.
He will learn
it comes like a blue jacketed bullet
it comes like a bronze tipped arrow
-like something dangerous
speeding through the Rez.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem