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Subject: Just for Rising Sun Author: Dreamwalker [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] Date Posted: 22:24:15 03/09/01 Fri Museum Moccasins As a child wide-eyed and innocent my Father took me once to a museum in the city a dusty dirty smelly place designed the past to erase where I might look upon a tortured lost and forgotten face some semblance of a long lost race among the ruins there presented a pair of moccasins stood in despair lonely lost and out of place soft deer hide once supple and warm had dried and crinkled to the form of one who wore it long ago with one worn space which was the toe my mind did real to think surmise who wore this when and where did go the soft contours evoked a sense of who once waked within this sole the felt like folds the soft impressions of each toe each foot different in time direction so like the shoes I wear each day yet years and eons once displaced the woman who like cats of night wore these from dawn to evening light a sense of humor I detect a love long spent by wrinkled toe so much to see so much untold museum moccasins for all to see a display to you a life to me. Copyright 1998 Dreamwalker Beseechment High above the valley at dusk he sits alone wrapped in the blazing colors of his faith sheltered from the winds on high by one small piece of cloth his hands now gnarled and thin of skin blue in the night sky hold to the Prayer Feather as of old for centuries untold while sage and sweet grass waft a solitary Eagle joins high above a symbol of Creators love in true Beseechment faith holds strong as one more Elder sings his song a prayer for all for his People not for himself but for relations there at camp beside the rivers edge that they may live and breath and love this land they call their home that once more all the world be green and fresh and new one man's dream one Nations prayer wrapped in a feather. Copyright 1998 Dreamwalker I Belong To The Mother High upon the ragged Mountain I stand with feet planted against the Mother This is my land, land of my People It belongs to Sister, Kola, Brother The wings of the winged-ones beat with the heart beat of the Mother Their graceful flight across the sky Echoes the pulse of no other Sister water runs around the bends and curves singing for all to hear drawing the Spirit near Brother Hawk circles high in the noon day sun reminding us to join ourselves so that we may become one Here in the silence of alone Their voices carry me home Here on their land I stand A place that no one can own On the wind I hear Voices of the Ancestors Strong and pure and clear I am at home here. Copyright 1999 Dreamwalker [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]