There’s a place I went, when I was just something of a kid, a Cibola somewhere south, where spirits in the Chaco speak to only those who know, that earth is in the bow, of a terrestrial time. When daemons will not still their selves and they will fly to Santé Fe, on the seven rocks, they will lay. I have heard them when I drove 371 South through the nomenclature wars. I heard them when I drove through judgement to Santé Fe. Those words, modern man, does not know what they are for, and what those whispers say. Oh and here in Chaco Canyon clear, once upon a time when I was just by myself, the seven altars stood, and those rocks in all their witch hood, rained down fire from all the sky, upon my soul. And Santé Fe you took me, I cried, and declared I would not die, before I walked beyond the door. Those Rocks of legend, fire and before, of destiny, they took away my pride, brought me down to beyond, pure Christian pride. Right inside me while Jesus died, the peace and calm, from the deserts dawn, I became Santé Fe. I might be seventeen, and so withdrawn, but I know, of what is true, golden light insight my love for you, Santé Fe.
Took me upon the desert floor, took me upon the granites door, to where the sandstone carved my eyes, took me inside, made me Chaco’s bride, then I saw Santé Fe, Santé Fe! There some say, New Mexico has swum away, upon some sand, or some tide, desert specters haunt some minds, but not mine, no not mine. For I have found an old home. A place in the desert, hearts can come to cry, I was there when Chaco Canyon spun from the sky, I was only seventeen when I died, then I rose in Santé Fe, my true boyhood, rose in play, Anasazi, moonlight play, while all around the wind and ghost do relay. Holy Ghost, or special play, I am risen here by the weather or a whim. Upon the seven rocks Cibola lays, her legs stretched to catch my wanton eyes that stray. Here in the desert I come to lay, and I rise, rise to say. I’m alive, my mind is alive in Santé Fe.
And oh just like the boyhood dream of seventeen in 1978, I will fly, by myself in Chaco Canyon to the seven altars, there I will find holy faith, Santé Fe.
Santé Fe means “Holy Ground”. This is written in memory of a solitary June trip to Chaco Canyon when I was seventeen! – 06.25.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל