Blue Birds Read Online Free PDF Page B

is somewhere near.

KIMI
    After the rain
    I find them.
    The flowers
    still rest at the base
    of the moss-covered tree.
    Though storms have pounded
    many petals away,
    there is a red ribbon
    wound about the stems.
    Alawa,
    my joyful sister,
    danced with colored ribbons
    streaming from her hands.
    They were a gift from the Englishman
    in Wingina’s time.
    This ribbon is for me.
    I twist it about my fingers,
    marvel at its elegance,
    wish I could adorn my skirt
    with its grace.
    But this treasure
    cannot be displayed.
    I hide the ribbon
    in my skirt’s deerskin folds
    with the wooden bird.
    The girl has told me
    she will come
    when she is able.
    I will be here,
    waiting.

KIMI
    Alawa,
    I remember
    stroking your cheek, round as a pumpkin,
    pushing back your tangled hair,
    your face clenched in pain.
    I stayed with you,
    brought the water gourd,
    covered you when the cool air taunted,
    promising hatred
    for those who brought this illness
    that was your end.
    Sister,
    forgive me.
    I have not kept my word.
    Wingina,
    I see
    what you first embraced.
    Though their appearance is foreign,
    at times in them I glimpse something familiar.
    Though their montoac injures,
    it is also capable of marvelous things.
    Father,
    I am sorry
    I did not seek your wisdom.
    Wanchese,
    I feel
    your hatred,
    know you reject their ways.
    Uncle,
    I ask your pardon,
    for I cannot think as you do.
    There is one among them
    I long to understand.

KIMI
    Her montoac
    is not a thing
    for me to keep.
    It is right
    to return what is hers.

Alis
    It has been days
    since I’ve seen her,
    yet this time when I go
    she is there.
    She smiles,
    extends her hand to me—
    cradling Uncle Samuel’s bird!
    Where did she find it?
    I kiss it,
    clasp it to my cheek,
    and for a moment,
    it is as though
    he’s with me.
    Her other hand is heaped with berries.
    I shove them in my mouth,
    hardly chewing,
    their sweet goodness
    dripping off my chin.

Alis
    â€œAlis,” I say,
    pointing to myself,
    for after everything
    that has passed between us,
    it’s only proper she know my name.
    She touches her head,
    holds a hand over her heart.
    â€œKimi.”

Alis

KIMI

This must
remain secret.
My people
would not understand.
We share
no language.
She does not
know our customs.
Because of her tribe,
we live in fear.
The English
tried to destroy us.
Yet she’s shown
me kindness.
She knows
beauty.
She is Kimi,
a Roanoke Indian.
Alis,
an English girl.
She has
become
my friend.

KIMI
Alis

So many things
I want to share,
so much I want to know.
If only
the sun would stand in place,
time might stretch
and
slow.
 

Alis
    We point to objects,
    name them
    with the speech we were born into.
    We trade sounds,
    collect them
    as Joan kept pretty buttons.
    I practice Kimi’s words,
    strive to make the vowels dance as she does.
    She follows the curving of my lips,
    trains her mouth to utter noises
    it never has before.
    Her sounds in trying English
    are like a child’s babble.
    When I test her phrases on my tongue,
    she tugs her ear to say
    I must speak just as strangely.
    In this way we communicate,
    a stilted mixture
    of two languages,
    one that’s
    ours alone.

KIMI
    We stretch out in the sunshine,
    point to the clouds skimming the trees.
    â€œA fox,” I say,
    and make my hand
    a sharp-nosed creature
    opening his jaws.
    She looks above,
    holds her palms together,
    weaves them like a fish
    thrashing in the waters.
    I see a snake,
    its slender body
    streams across the sky.
    She finds a bird,
    a puff of mist,
    a gauzy veil
    with outstretched wings,
    that swoops and stretches
    with the wind,
    breaks apart and forms again.
    I tug my ears,
    use my eyes to tell her
    to look above.
    Alis sees the rabbit cloud.
    She crouches,
    hops,
    holds back laughter
    with her hand.

Alis
    I have my bird.
    I know her name.
    The girl,
    she is my friend.
    It is so strange
    returning to the village,
    coming back to the familiar.
    Perhaps this is why
    I signal to