…in the rubble

…in the rubble
(Inspired by Joy Harjo’s poem: Don’t Bother the Earth Spirit)

Is there a ‘spirit’ alive in the rubble?

The quaking Earth moved with a rhythm
of a musical piece
—high pitched.

She carried the fragments of her ‘soils’
—devouring whatever lay in her path.

How long, how long did her lament last?

It was short, yet her after shocks rippled
—unseen miles.

Lives lost…she moved caressing their lifeless 
brows, touching their broken places with her fingers
AND
then she listened.

Voices

—they were getting louder
AND
they were closer.

In her pit of darkness,
she held the bodies that were ALIVE.

Slithering herself through debris,
she found openings…
she gathered small stones throwing them
at the persons there
—to Search
—to Rescue
—to Recover.

Those struck by the flying objects,
braced themselves.

They thought aloud—
‘Another Quake,’
‘Another After Shock,’
but they did not turn away—
they found the openings.

‘Spirit’ whirled herself
down into the heap of darkness.
She lifted those with breath in their lungs.

The rescuers cried out, 
‘We found One… ALIVE.’

The joy…the outpouring of gladness pooling 
in rivers of grief
—after shocks STILL lingering.

Is this story true?

Is there a spirit alive in the rubble?

I don’t know.

Maybe years from now
loved ones who visit
the covered graveyards
will tell how she lifted them out ALIVE.

The sound of her beating HEART
—a Quake.

When will they care for my land still    AWAKE?