Welcome my brother come and join me
sit and listen to our mothers song.
Hear and understand her natural truths
listen as she weaves wind through pine
sit amongst her families of life.
Hear the symphony of the sun and moon
understand the meanings she's taught.
Here upon this promontory rock
we can begin to see the tale unfold.
What's past is past a memory
but a thread in the fabric of life
a shard in the makeup of who we are.
Like the layers of the rock here
each only a piece of the whole truth.
Apart they crumble, together they last.
Watch as the hawk dances on air
as the salmon struggles on upstream.
See our true place in the worlf we are in.
'93
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Reviews of "Mothers Song"
Reviewed by Sandy Hoynacki (Reader)
Reviewed on February 2, 2013
Your writings speak so much about who you are..Deep within you. Again, I see depth inside you that few writers expose. We are but a thread in the fabic of life. You unravel your thoughts very well..You paint yourself well..You mime your soul that few may see as I do..
Using Calgary as a backdrop the author satirizes the self-serving nature of the public as it continues to fatten itself, not only physically, but egotistically as well.
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Sandy