Coranado

Coronado

In 1541, long before anyone even dreamed this land would become

the state of Kansas, in the United States of America

Francisco Vasquez de Coranado traveled here all the way from Mexico

Searching for Quivera, a mythical city of gold

He travled about half-way across the endless prairie

Before he found a hill tall enough he could climb up and see what lay ahead

All he saw was more Kansas

And that's when he decided, “Fuck this, I'm turning back.”

A couple hundred years later, but still before Kansas would become a state

My ancestors arrived in covered wagons

Maybe it was because the wagon broke down

or the oxen pulling it died

I can only guess the reason, but the fact is my people stayed here

And Kansas still isn't very populated compared to other states

I don't have to drive far outside of town to see vast expanses of dry grasses

People who drive cross-country complain about the long, boring drive through Kansas

It is rarely a destiation, it's just a place in the way of getting some place else

But I don't see what's wrong with flat and wide spaces

I like being able to see the sky touch the ground all around me

I don't mind a color palette of just grey and brown, in infinite shades

And the way the wind blows across a field and ripples the crops

like waves in a waterless sea

I go to the lake in early spring and everything looks dead

But I know it isn't

Green things are pushing their way up through the earth and a layer of matted leaves

Birds and squirrels still make their nests in the skeletons of trees

and if you break off a little branch and cut it open, it will be green inside

I am always impressed by Kansas trees

clumps of them all lean the same way the winds have bent them

charred bits have been blasted off by lightning strikes

and branches bowed and broken by the weight of snow and ice

but still they are still alive

they survive storms of all kinds, and scortching drought

and they are always growing

slowly, impercebtibly to eyes dulled by the flash and speed of modern entertainment

There is nothing to see here if you don't know where to look

Or if you are blinded by the desire to see something else

I like to think maybe my ancesters stayed here because they wanted to

And they put down deep, strong roots for me to grow from

and to keep growing, through fire and storm and ice

And it's okay that I lean a bit to the side

and pieces of me have been broken off here and there

and I'm not as flashy as an orchid

not as fast as fiber-optic cable

It's an accomplishment that I'm still alive

and fragile, budding things find shelter in me

I don't need to be made of gold to be worth something

After every fire, every hail, every tornado, every drought

Life always comes back to me again

Just like this land

So go on back, Coronado!

Take your selfish, silly dreams of fortune with you

Leave this place to me and my kind

who see beauty in reality

Anna J Michener

4/25/13