Alma Luz Villanueva

Eagle Dancer

Indian Market, Santa Fe,
early morning rain, still
damp, all the tribes
gather, clouds gather,

light gathers, thunder gathers-
in the plaza CLAN-destine
plays Native rock and roll-
an eagle dancer spreads his

wings, wide open, eyes closed,
sweating in the noon sun, he swoops,
he staggers- the 2-year-old boy
dances with him, he SEES the eagle

dancing dancing dancing flying-
he reaches out to a young Indian
woman, she SEES the eagle dancer,
joins him, turning, twirling, holding

him up, the 2-year-old boy
dances at their feet, gazing up
at eagles, gathering clouds-
not once do his protective sisters,

mother, fear he'll be harmed, letting
him dance with eagle dancer, young
eagle woman (his daughter sister, lover,
mother) until the cops come to take

him away, drunken Indian, they
didn't SEE the sacred Eagle Dancer
flying through his clouds, Eagle Woman
at his side. That night the streets in

Santa Fe were raging
rivers, lightning piercing sky,
over and over, how he danced
us, the world, new.

August 21,2004, Santa Fe Plaza

Into the Mayan Sixth Sun/World, the Pueblo Fifth Sun/World.

Topic(s) of this poem: dance

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Poem Edited: Saturday, May 3, 2014

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

I wrote this poem while living in Santa Fe, New appears in my book, 'Soft Chaos.' While in New Mexico I went to many beautiful, sacred dances in the Pueblos- my favorite early morning in winter with snow on the Sangre de Cristo peaks. Bare chested deer dancers- rattles, drums, singing filling the frosty air. They, and all native dancers, dance our world new, gracias.

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