~image of National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration property in Pacific Grove, CA
The bones of my grandmother
The bones of my grandfather
The bones of the Esselen
The bones of the Ohlone Costanoan
The bones of the Rumsen
Land
This land tilled, taken
Our ancestors still lie, together
Coastal, beauty
Country club laughter
Ignorance
Of what lies beneath
.
Hundreds of years ago
Spanish grants
Relocating the rooted
Tortured and “cultured”
In sandy walls deemed holy
Still I remember the echoing bells
And fascination of child eyes
Strolling
Through the mission
On Sunday afternoons
.
Now
Called back here
By tribe, ally
To these same sandy dunes
Hundreds of years later
The bones are in danger
.
Standing on
Contested land
Broken treaties, how does this still go on?
I lean in
Across lichen laced barriers
Spirits of Hummingbird, Yarrow
Speaking
.
Don’t act
Just listen
Don’t act
Just listen
Don’t act
Just listen
.
Whose voice?
My grandmother
My grandfather
Ancient peoples?
My Self?
Who calls me?
Who speaks to me?
Can I ever really know?
.
Ancestors
Well and healed ancestors
Why am I called back to this land
Where I look to the right
Under manicured lawn
European privileged kin
And to the left
Through chainlinks
The untouched dunes in danger
With your bones
With their bones
With our bones
How do my bones
Holding me tall
Tend
.
The waves crash
And I pray
And silence is all there is
As I stand here
On top of bones
Original bones
Beneath Cypress-studded vastness
Ancient grounds
That may not last
Much longer
.
Do I really
Just
Listen?
.
This poem was inspired by the recent contested sale of the NOAA building in Pacific Grove, CA. For more information on this issue you can go here: https://www.change.org/p/jimmy-panetta-rededicate-the-noaa-building-in-pacific-grove-for-the-public-benefit/u/30678313
Letting Go 