Her hair, was two, silky, raven black cornrows
flowing down her slender back,
in her eyes, you could find
two whole blue corn moons, and a grinning bob cat of stars
twinkling in the blanket of night sky,
a trembling reflection on the sleepy, shimmering lake,
her skin was copper and
cinnamon flavored, rich and aglow with delicate paint markings
perfect, round droplets of blue and red ink,
a flora, fauna princess with
a crown of blossoming flowers garnishing her jeweled head,
and the majestic, flowing cloak
of a rampant bear wrapped around her shoulders,
her cool, adventurous feet, would walk to the ends of the earth
leaving a trail of lightly treading,
small footprints among the larger ones,
for she cupped up handfuls of the rich, dark soil,
marveled
at the shine of a cherry, red sun,
sang with all the voices
of the mountains,
painted with
all the colors of the wind,
and never thought to ask for more,
she threw herself over his worn, rugged self
and asked for his life to be spared,
blinking down crystalline tears, swiveling in a fresh, pure,
soft, innocence that brought mankind to bay,
and then she reached up
and harvested her ripe fruits,
to nourish his kind.
Pocahontas, "laughing and joyous one,"
Matoaka, "flower between two streams,"
You were the beautiful, laughing flower between the two, different, gushing streams of life.
