The Trade

I traded a lot that day
Comfort sounded so good
Safety sounded so good
Longevity sounded so good
Those were the days
The garden must have felt
... overwhelming
A snake or arrow could maim
I could die so easily
Naked to the elements
A kind of human berry I was
The earth against my skin
Buffalo fur in January
Dried salmon every day
I know it was hard
That direct and immediate alliance
With the maker
Unbearable nakedness

I don't romanticize
I don't remember any romance
Maybe a beaded belt given to me
And words of my duties
Grind and stir the maize
It doesn't mean I wasn't happy
Nor that I'm happy now
A stocked kitchen
And shopping mall nearby
A biting loneliness
Of how things are
No romance here either

Very little comes in contact
With my skin
That is authentically alive
It's all paved or made in China
While freedom rushes about
Paying off the bills
Tick tock ...
Tick tock ...

I don't remember saying yes
The day the trading happened
Someone did on my behalf
I'm not sure if they ever thought of me
Like I now think of them

© Rachelle Lamb

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