It is step
singing season's freezing rain,
these snow-white feathers
dressing head in ancient breath,
dream's risen ghost-cloud dispersing lung,
raising noise of past degradation
through breathless reverence.
This cyber dusting of spirit, thrusting word
to earthen moves of river,
fusing fingers
petrified in weary personification;
when love was grounded seed
to grow good hunting,
in life to gather winds,
as together, we taste invisible air.
I am far from then, when this place was holy,
and close to now,
when all is forsaken,
our dreamless grasp of prophet's face,
billowed sigh to go unnoticed.
To pretend in progress,
is path to pathless,
panting paint to peel my canvas,
stroking truth
in pastel wishes,
this scream to run in longer slivers,
bleeding life in forgotten dimension
of drum to walk with different dancer.
A contest entry
- Metis and Acadian - “We were, we are and will be there for ever.”-for Native American Heritage Month by CarolDesjarlais.
775 points, ended December 1, 2007, 3 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
to try to drum that drum in old ways...to hear the once-stretched rawhide that truly echoes the heartbet as the stick hits the hide... that is all I wish in this world. My drum has cracked, literally, in this new cliamte it has foudn itself in.. I am praying for another drum to come, for my voice is stifled without the song I need to sing. To me, there is nothign on earth liek that heartbeat that keeps the half and half of me in anceint circle.
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"To pretend in progress,
is path to pathless,
panting paint to peel my canvas,
stroking truth
in pastel wishes,"..
Another excellent poem, ..love these lines too
"these snow-white feathers
dressing head in ancient breath,"
Good luck in the contest - always such wonderful poems you create
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