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By Ed Bennett

My daughter loved the Kachina doll
“Because she’s so pretty”, she’d say,
holding it fast in
a little girl’s cuddle.

I smiled, kissed her
remembering that my grandmother
loved the Kachina, too,
because they brought rain
to a dry pueblo,
life to the stone and dust.

I’ll tell her the story,
show her the mask
my grandfather made,
place the words within her
like the seeds
my grandmother planted
in her desert garden
because she knew
there would be rain
for one more season.


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