Arms draped in chains of choice.
'till dizziness ensued.
Your loyal promise to a worthless cause;
In cold-lined quarry; blood in stone.
In the deep chasm of your well-mined heart
Lies a hollow.
Your fallen grace kicks up the Earth,
As do the ghosts that haunt on horse,
This broken land.
When the herd-dust settles, it reveals
An eagle in brand–
a long-trapped soul
Mapped out across your back.
Your Nasca lines are flawlessly braille
And strong with intent,
but too far above
The River of life.
A mortal stands dry in
You somehow live,
'tho you failed to irregate.
Drive out the demons.
Starve out the fear.
Know this and know it to the core:
There will always be a choice.
As it has been said,
There are far worse fates than
Call the River to surface.
Let the parched eagle drink.
Millions of hummingbirds will call afloat.
They will tumble, twirl,
fall, swirl & spark,
As hope takes flight
'cross endless skies.
~ Formerly titled: "Puquios."
From the forthcoming: Hannah Ellie, Poem & Prose
© Copyright 2011, Hannah Ellie (one of Susan Leitch's writer pseudonyms). All rights reserved.
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This poem immediately came to me, while reading about it in National Geographic.
Image Credits (for collage):
The Hummingbird: Diego Delso, CC BY-SA 4.0
Nasca Monkey: Public Domain.
Satellite picture of an area containing Nazca lines: Public Domain.
The Condor: Diego Delso, CC BY-SA 4.0
An entrance to the puquios, near Nazca, Peru: Robert Thompson. Public Domain.