Warriors are frozen in their tracks.
A ancient conscription to be held
in stone-faced determination.
I hear the women’s moans
writhing across the sand,
cooing in the caverns
where they hold services
to honor you.
I watch the seasons wrangle
For ways to wear you down,
But you stand, blank-eyed
as any sentinel, waiting
for a second wave of some attack
or second coming.
Perhaps you are the note-takers
that see the decimation
and mark it clearly
deep down in a crystal chip
that has been planted in your heart.
See me, now, I honor you;
know you for who you are
and lay sweet sage at your feet
while I lie in the shadow of your care
under the weighty watch you keep.
In a list
- Honorable Mention • next in list
- Native American Voice • next in list
- the Nature Of Things • next in list
A contest entry
- Picture Inspiration #3 by hoodoolover.
700 points, ended December 30, 2006, 16 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
This has some appealing elements to me, the reference of the crystal chip, the women's coos and moans from the caverns the laying of sweet sage, I think these are all amazing images. I feel somewhat that they could have been incorporated in a manner that flowed a little better, but all in all I like the message, so thanks for entering and please do not respond to this message until after judging, thanks
-
-
thanks again, hoodoolover....we have the love of these ancient ones in common, for sure.
-
-
Another compelling write. That last stanza is just so perfect. Congratulations and good luck in the comp.
-
-
Oh, and I do miss being able to go to Writing On Stone Park and honor the hoodos that lie between Old Chief Mountain, in the Alberta Rockies, and his knees made up of the Sweet Grass Hills of Montana
-
Adding your comment:
