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I'm Maggie Smith, and this is the Slowdown. This year, the United States of America celebrates its 250th birthday. It's semiquincentennial. On one hand, it's a big number. None of us will live to see our 250th birthday. On the other hand, our country is young, an adolescent compared to many other countries around the world. And though the history of the US Is quite short, human history in this land is not. People have lived here for thousands of years. It's easy to romanticize and even lionize explorers and pioneers. And it's essential to tell the truth about how we got to be where we are now and who was displaced or eradicated, often violently, for others to call this place home. But even when humans in power today are reluctant to tell the difficult truth, the land reveals it. This country we call ours is full of history that predates our current national culture, if we care to see and acknowledge it. I live in Ohio, where in Adams county is the country's largest serpent mound, an earthen effigy mound representing a snake with a curled tail. It's an internationally known national historic Landmark and was likely constructed by the Adena culture, who share geography with Ohio. Nearby are three burial mounds, two created by the Adina culture, which existed from 800 BC to 100 AD and one by the Fort Ancient culture, which existed from 1000 to 1650 A.D. it's incredible to me that less than two hours from my home in the Midwestern suburbs is an enormous ancient earthwork. But that's the thing about history. It layers on top of itself in unexpected ways. No matter where you live in the United States, you live on land that has long been home to indigenous people. Today's poem takes us to Ancestral Puebloan structures in New Mexico, where it explores the possibilities of how we chart and thus become part of these many layered timelines. Mother Church Number 3 by Robin Cost Lewis Kincletso Yellow House, Chaco Canyon, San Juan County, New Mexico Anasazi ruins A.D. 1125-1130 for Henri at 2 you step down into the flat world, then ask me to say it, to explain how our name can mean both ancestor and enemy. Your body begins in four directions here. One calendar takes 18 years. I am three. One day is an eyelash. Your body is a segment of prehistoric road, a buried stairwell with only the top stair obvious. We are alluvial obsidian. Sometimes the ground swells with disappointment. Sometimes we know our mountains will be renamed after foreign Saints. We sing 900 year old hymns that instruct us and how to sit still for 49 years through a 50 year drought. We climb down through the hole anyway and agree to the arrangement. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter and find us on Instagram slowdownshow and blueskylowdownshow.org. Hi, it's Maggie. The Slowdown is the only poetry podcast in public media. That means your support is vital to keep us going. No matter how much you give, your contribution makes a real difference. Head to SlowdownShow.org donate today to Power More Poems into the Future.
In this episode, host Maggie Smith invites listeners to contemplate the complex historical layers present in the United States, focusing especially on the ancient human presence that predates the nation's formation. Using both personal reflection and today's featured poem, "Mother Church No. 3" by Robin Coste Lewis, Smith explores themes of ancestry, displacement, and the enduring truths told by the land itself. The poem guides listeners to Chaco Canyon, New Mexico, examining how history, identity, and memory intertwine across time and space.
[01:00 - 02:00]
“None of us will live to see our 250th birthday. On the other hand, our country is young, an adolescent compared to many other countries around the world.”
— Maggie Smith, [01:05]
[02:01 - 03:40]
“But even when humans in power today are reluctant to tell the difficult truth, the land reveals it. This country we call ours is full of history that predates our current national culture, if we care to see and acknowledge it.”
— Maggie Smith, [02:32]
[03:41 - 04:25]
“No matter where you live in the United States, you live on land that has long been home to indigenous people.”
— Maggie Smith, [03:58]
[04:26 - 05:57]
Read in its entirety by Maggie Smith
Notable Poetic Excerpt:
“Sometimes we know our mountains will be renamed after foreign Saints.
We sing 900-year-old hymns that instruct us in how to sit still for 49 years through a 50 year drought.
We climb down through the hole anyway and agree to the arrangement.”
— Robin Coste Lewis, read by Maggie Smith [05:25 - 05:45]
On the land as an archive:
“But that’s the thing about history. It layers on top of itself in unexpected ways.”
— Maggie Smith, [03:35]
On recognition and acknowledgment:
“…if we care to see and acknowledge it.”
— Maggie Smith, [02:45]
Maggie Smith uses today's poem and her measured, contemplative narration to encourage deeper awareness of the histories that underwrite the present. The episode invites listeners to recognize, respect, and witness the ancestral histories and timelines that merge beneath the surface of modern life—reminding us that poetry can serve as a pathway to compassion, understanding, and hope.