by Elizabeth Gips
We, who have computerized the motion of grass, analyzed the song of the stars and with calipered equations measured ourselves against the infinite scenery of the universe, we ask you to teach us. Forgetting how to communicate, our hearts often hurt, and animals fear us. Flowers and beetles are crushed beneath our wheels. There are no moccasins on Wall Street. The past does not open to receive us. Perhaps if you can teach us how to be together in love and respect, the future will embrace us all. Perhaps then we could hear deer talking, and we would walk together in celebration through the long and varied corridors of Time.
* Dineh is the Navajo word for Navajo.