Sometimes the simplest things in life can get to me.
I get all caught up in the emotions of how sacred each and every day is.
This morning over coffee, my aunt asked me what those birds are in my lawn.
"Mourning doves" I said.
"Do they always hang out here?"
"Yeah" I said "Every since I moved here a year and a half ago." I watched them chase each other around, as if flirting.
"Are they a couple?" She watched them smiling as they chased each other.
"I'm pretty sure they are." I told her, as an after thought I added "I think they're gay too."
"How do you know that?" she asked
"Look how good they get along, if that was a man and woman on this reservation, they would half kill each other by now." We both laughed and went back to our coffee.
I started thinking about the first time I saw those birds, I thought how cool it was for them to hang out in my yard. Sometimes I hear them sing to each other across the street at Narcisse Rabbit's house. Most of the times, they are at Andrew's house next door, since he has the most trees. But I think of how many hoodlums live here in the ghetto and those birds survived. All the cats we all have and they don't bother those birds.
I think of how I get up in the morning and peek out the door to catch a cool breathe of air and those birds are either singiong or flirting. It gives me the slightest, simplest hope that that day will be a good day. I never knew this that whole time I lived here, until today.
A pair of mourning doves makes me feel good to be alive on the reservation, each and every day.
The following is a poem I wrote back in September of 2005, since you know April is Poetry Month.
I heard the cry
Of a mourning dove
Announcing an early rise
I awoke alone
To a dawn so cold
I await with weary eyes
for Her Majesty to arrive
The darkness of the vast sky
Begins to fade
The stars dim
With strokes of a cloudy brush
Framing Mother Earth
Alone I await
For the warmth.