“To my house
I brought my road.
Sitting down quietly,
Throughout a blessed night
With our children we came to day.
30 This day, my fathers,
You who here were p?ekwins,
You who used to take care of the world,
You who used to be chiefs of the downy feather,
And furthermore, my sun father,
When you came out standing to your sacred place,
In my house
For your rite
I fashioned plume wands in human form.
With the striped cloud wing of my father,
With the striped cloud wing of oriole, p?ekwin priest,
Arid blue jay, p?ekwin priest,
And the wings of all the different birds of summer,
With these four times
I gave my plume wands human form.
With the flesh of my mother,
Even a soiled cotton thread,
With these I gave my plume wands human form.
With the flesh of the one who is my mother…”
Zuni Ritual Poetry
By Ruth L. Bunzel
From The Forty-Seventh Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, 1929-1930, the Smithsonian Institution, Washington D.C.
Image: Sacred Texts