Until the rain did fail

They tilled the land
And planted food
‘Til where they lived
Soon cities stood

Stone on stone
Cut and honed
Five stories
High and mighty

Six hundred years
They thrived and grew
Built roads and trade
Their spirit, true

With rainfall sparse
They managed wells
To flood the soil
With aqueducts

Thus they shone
Close to bone
A feat not
Taken lightly

Until
The rain
Did fail

They left their homes
Without a trace
Their kivas burned
Their lives displaced

I stood above
Their broken home
And wondered there
Where did they roam?

They live on
In pueblos, still
The Hopi thrive
“Our people’s will”