Late spring Mother Earth humming, awakened… from winter’s dormant sleep, blooming everywhere with Nature’s lifeblood nectar. Mom and I… swimming at the secret tribal lake, our oasis she climbs the trail, she gains the cliff-top… she dives from way up high… so natural… so graceful… she tucks, pikes, flips, and swans… so beautiful… now cajoling me… I run… I jump… I splash… from oh so high… the water stings… but doesn’t overcome the thrill… We race along the lakeshore… then up the cliff trail… she laughs… and slows down for me… she’s so lithe… so willowy… light beige copper skin… eyes dark brown with sunlit amber lights… obsidian pubes… black triangle of Choctaw heritage displayed… as we swim au naturel… head adorned with blonde Dolly Parton curls… I wonder why… Mommy doesn’t match… her subdued voice falters she’s ashamed before me… necessary silver, she says… purchasing acceptance in this white world… the price I pay to be an accountant. Don’t be scared, Mommy, of who you are, I say… You’re who you are… don’t give in to evil… evil is weak… your blonde hair’s a lie… Don’t hide your heritage… It’s your Spirit’s reality…
