Spearpoint Dreams


I walk across the desert floor

and before me find a key to history

from a time long ago.

A spearpoint chipped from rosy flint,

lying amongst the limestone rocks,

untouched by man for ten thousand years.


Questions cross my mind

and I can't help but to wonder,

did this spearpoint kill a winter's meal?

A deer, an antelope, or a buffalo?

Did it lie here in a carcass

or was it simply discarded,

damaged after use?


Did the hunter miss his kill,

his spearpoint broken and left

to lie here on the desert floor,

waiting to be found

and to excite questions in my mind,

questions about a past long gone.


Who knows what dreams

this spearpoint has touched

in the millenia since its creation?

Dreams of hunters long ago

and dreams of modern man

of times long past?


Who knows what it was

this spearpoint dreamt,

as it lay here for so long

amongst the rocks in the desert sun,

abandoned and forgotten

on this rocky desert floor?


by Troy and Marla Hibbitts, March 1997