Remember

after Joy Harjo

Remember - you are still an animal

hunting for dinner that the lion has killed

and left for you packaged

in styrofoam and plastic.

Remember the taste of the blood

before you learned

to marinate, pan sear and oven roast.

Remember the delight of finding a field of berry bushes

before they were picked for you

and sprayed with pesticides and gloss,

each berry picture perfect.

Remember how you learned watching familiars

instead of reading words

on chopped down trees

written by professionals.

Remember when you knew what to know

in the aliveness of your body,

in the stillness of your mind,

in the vastness of the land.

Remember when the berry

and the blood

were all you knew

and that was enough.