Juliana Aragón Fatula

writer

Finalist in Montana High Plains Book Award

imagehigh plains book award in Montana

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April Poetry Month

My language is my identity. My own unique voice: no longer silent or shameful of not being Indian enough to be called Indian, and called a pocha: like a musician who knows how to play an instrument but can’t read music. I write stories about my culture and code switch between languages. Spanglish is the story, the rebellion, the music, my voice. I refuse to be ashamed of my tongue. I land right in the middle.

SkywardStonehenge – 2007

She hands me the dowser.

my hands—stones,

jagged blades,

monsters,

buried,

loose,

loaded-down.

Eyes etched

in treasures,

sea caves,

ancestral graves of jade.

Everyone is surprised when the dowser moves towards Stonehenge. My traveling companions take it as a bit of a magic trick, but I hold the rod and I know there is no trick involved. They move on; I remain behind to say a prayer. I kneel on the damp grass and begin to pray. My head begins to be bend toward the ground. I pull my head up. It begins to bow down again. I feel this eery sense of magnetism drawing my head down to the earth. It looks like I am bowing while praying, like a Buddhist monk. I close my eyes and live in the moment.

My companions yell for me to join them in the gift shop before the bus returns to town. I fight the urge to spend the night at Stonehenge. To curl up in a blanket and lie under the stars and discover what other ploys nature has up its sleeve. My desire to purchase something that says Stonehenge, a postcard, a keychain, overwhelming. I can’t believe I traveled all this way for my dream to come true only to leave after twenty minutes. What a gyp!

On December 21, 2012,[1] I’d love to be at Stonehenge or Chichen Itza[2] for the moment when the planets align and the world ends. I will lie on the ceque, spirit path, to receive my dream-time, when the land strengthens and energies flow through me, fertilizing the land and receiving my spiritual message, to be part of Mother Earth, to transcend, to be magnetized, to feel the pull of earth in my bones one more time before I join my loved ones in the spirit world and wait to be reborn in the fifth world.

[1] The end of the Mayan calendar.

[2] Chichen Itza meaning “at the mouth of the Itza well”, is a Mayan City on the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico, between Valladolid and Merida. It probably served as the religion center of Yucatan before the Spaniards arrived.

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