Clear Lake

My Grandmother is now a bed of scattered stones,

My Grandfather, the cold, cutting breeze across my cheek,

My Mother, the forgiving lotus,

My Sister, the twinkling stars,

My Father, the familiar stranger,

& She teaches me to trust,

& He teaches me to love,

& I am

a cobalt feather,

riding the breeze of my ancestors,

all the way home.

 

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(Image credit: indian-feathers.seebyseeing.net )

 

 

Poetry for Pantheists

index

The creek ripples, the birds sing,

The bells of leaves are shaken by the warm breeze,

Lime and fluttering, they wave hello to me,

The wheat is scattered for, by and with my ancestors.

Barefoot and brave, I march on,

Calling and hugging the Earth,

Mama, manna, I’m home.