Author’s note: This piece was written following my recent visit to the Sinagua Cliff Dwellings, commonly known as Montezuma’s Castle. This site, of significance to many Indigenous peoples, including the Ak-Chin Indian Community, Fort McDowell Yavapai Nation, Gila River Indian Community, The Hopi Tribe, Pueblo of Zuni, Salt River Prima-Maricopa Indian Community, Tohono O’odham Nation, Yavapai-Apache Nation, and Yavapai Prescott Indian Tribe, persists on contemporary Yavapai-Apache territory. This site instilled within me a great sense of awe and appreciation for other Indigenous peoples, and I hope here to convey a ‘look back’ to ancestral knowledges of groundwater and lifeways to inform the future. This piece is my first venturing to write about a climate and land within which I am a visitor and guest. My thoughts in the Hawaiian language are included to acknowledge my positionality and role as a Native Hawaiian author. Central Arizona faces increasing questions as to how to best manage and steward water, particularly within times of drought, increasing food production needs, and expected climate vulnerabilities (a, b, c ). With this piece, I wanted to consider the ancestral and ecological presence and indicators of water as well as a call to consider water as relations rather than resource.
The Water Within Us
“E mea ilihia hoʻomau nei.”
Let this grace persist.
This I prayed before the
Sinagua Cliff Dwellings.
330 miles from the tide,
yet still the sea
surged through my veins—
the sea salt crusting
my bones in place, in awe.
‘Sin-agua’, the Spanish named
these the Native ancestors
whose mastery endures.
‘Without water,’ they labeled.
A well-kept secret, perhaps:
for the water is within us.
Before my eyes caught sight
the gold glittered blue
held to southwest,
water greeted:
Grandmother’s limbs freely offered
shade, the dwelling beams
within the caves above.
Sycamore, she bestowed her blessings.
Cottonwood, too, head bent,
palms up whispered:
“water is hidden, until prayed.”
These the medicine keepers,
the elders: Saltbrush, Creosote,
Hackberry, they watched,
asking: “are you ready
to listen?” Water, held
for us, within us, between us.
Beneath us. Earth’s water,
invisible to the eye, her song
heard only when one first leans
on intuition.
Saltwater anchored me in place,
my constant reminder I am but visitor, islander,
among the secret-keepers, these
leaf and berry-laden Elders,
the red stones of the Ancestors-with-water.
Their people migrated, leaving these the
grandmother trees, medicine, water
in wait, in rest. Some lesson, from
which we might learn.
“Grant her hearing beyond ears.
Allow her to listen with spirit,”
the Dwellings pray back.
Neighboring Beaver Creek. Credit: Gina McGuire.
Arizona Sycamore. Credit: Gina McGuire.
Hackberry. Credit: Gina McGuire.
Sinagua Cliff Dwellings. Credit: Gina McGuire.