Rattlesnake Tribe / Lightning Nation
28th Rainbow Family Gathering of the Tribes
July 1-7, 1999, Allegheny Forest, Pennsylvania
Somewhere out there
roaming the wild vistas
of the heart, I’ve heard,
is a tribe anyone can joinWe are the forest
sprouting up through leaf-duff and fern
under the spreading limbs of our elders,
tying and re-tying our knots
till we learn the art of the stormtight shelterSomewhere out there
on the free horizon, the family
of all opposites is converging
from the seven directions HomeWe are the meadow
waking one morning between unfamiliar streams
of footsteps and voices, remembering
from some distant generation of meadowgrass
a dream of firelight and drummingSomewhere in the heart-pulse
of light and dark, the long-lost
orphans of the Earth are gathering
for the reunion feastWe are the stream
singing to every pebble and boulder we meet on our way
in a babble of continuous praise, a parade
of barefoot pilgrims chanting holy laughter,
forever seeking the easiest way downhillSomewhere in a sweaty flashback
hallucinations are hugging,
the annual parliament of anarchists
is assemblingWe are the mountain
sheltering its immaculate community
under broad leafy wings, protecting the Indiana bat
and the Eastern timber rattler, offering a home
to all creatures too wild for the human zooSomewhere far
below the deep blue sky the armies
of every continent and faith link hands
across the wildflowers to danceWe are the rainstorm
sailing high on its weatherfront
between the mountain ridges, roaring its drunken guffaw
just to hear the valleys echo, shooting down
electric dragon-talons at whoever stands tallestSomewhere high
above the treetops a prayer
sung in all the languages of silence
breaks the surface of soundWe are the rainbow
shining after the storm, arched from cloud to cloud
like a bridge between hardships, a path
from one lesson to the next, disappearing
when the last of us has crossed the abyssSomewhere asleep
in your classroom reveries
and cubicle daydreams is the vision
of a tribe anyone can joinWe are the poison fangs
of rattlesnake and lightning, the rocky trails,
the slick mud, the haze of humidity, even
the biting swarms of Pennsylvania State Police
on our dirt roads: this year’s catechism and curriculumSomewhere deep in the Earth
under your next step,
and the next, the vision breathes
on and on and onWe are everything
we have endured together, year after year, and we
carry it with us always from now on,
stronger every summer— thanks and praises!
—than we were the year before