Down in the canyons
with waterfalls as clear as similes,
our tribe of seven
pointed our toes ten miles deep.
Our roots started somewhere else.
Fresh spring water spouts from one source
Relying on freeze dried packaged foods
and portable stoves lighting the way.
Bats touch the tops of our heads
in the dusky nights while walking to the bathrooms,
and eventually the only sound for miles is
the white noise from the rivers
~Tina Meeks
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