To lose the past means the Future is lost. But to destroy the past is to destroy ourselves.
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Lost
While walking across this sacred land
I came across an earthen mound.
Upon the grass I placed my hand,
Rested my head upon the ground.
I heard within a beating sound,
Like the beating of a distant drum.
Soft at first it began to pound,
Within my head, a throbbing hum.
As if I’d slipped into a trance,
The scene around me began to change.
Ghostly Warriors before me danced.
Old men sang in a tongue that was strange.
Faster came those throbbing drums,
Dancers whirled and twirled around.
Before my eyes a procession comes.
Smashing pots upon the ground.
An Old One is looking straight at me,
With eyes of fire, burning coal.
Though I know he can’t see me.
Those eyes burn deep within my soul.
He rises, stands before where I lay
His lips are moving, speaking to me.
I strain to hear what he would say.
He alone is all I can see.
“Look and behold the world I had known,
Before the coming of the beast.
Before the poison seed had been sown.
Before his seed had grown and increased.
In your time my People have gone.
Ground to dust, blood covered the ground.
Their spirits now dance, and sing the Ghost song.
All that is left is this sacred mound.
Soon this too, will also be gone.
The souls of the People forever lost.
The Sky Gods will weep tears in the sun.
The Beast will laugh, not counting the cost.
When you awaken heed what I say
Tell all that you meet, the things you have seen.
The Dream is but dying, it will die on this day.
Let no-one forget where my people have been”
He reached out and placed, within my palm.
An object he closed my fingers around.
He held me and smiled, so gentle and calm.
I awoke to a roaring cacophonous sound.
Graders and Dozers had gathered around,
The base of this great sacred way.
Workmen were shouting, calling me down.
The Freeway must go through today.
I walked down the road, pondered my dream.
Stopping I gazed ‘cross the land.
Decided that nothing, is what it seems.
Till I slowly opened my hand.
There in my palm stood a small figurine
Carved out of turquoise, I saw ‘twas a bear.
In a flash I remembered all I had seen,
And realised I really was there.
Looked back and saw the mound was but gone,
With sorrow I felt the tears fill my eyes,
As I wept for the People and all they had done.
The rain poured down from clear skies.
Thankyou for this wondrous poem..the imagery was so overwhelmingly real.I felt every word..this is so well done..you KNOW and sense them ...I love the Americnan Native people they are so mystical and I only wish we would all take note of their wisdom and love..
Beautiful write..it goes into my library!
This is a terrific story/poem. You are very good at weaving a tale.
JC xoxoxo
Reviewed by Nicole Davis Vergara (Reader)
Reviewed on September 23, 2003
Beyond excellance in every verse, could feel this one she who walks with the elders and now has me yearning to dance with their ghosts!!!!
As a Indian forefather of mine once said in kind of quote from another, "Let them pollute our rivers, let them kill our buffalo, let them fell our every blessed tree but when it boils down to their heavens and hells there they will never have or see me!"
((((Hugs))))
~Nikki~
Full of imagery and telling stories of past and present, and what of the future - all three go hand in hand, so much is destroyed in the name of progress. Jackie <> <
The drug called "The Shari" has been used for vision quests over many years. But, when all the rivers start drying up, the tribe must send a young hunter named Tomás on a much more important trip through the Amazon.
The drug called "The Shari" has been used for vision quests over many years. But, when all the rivers start drying up, the tribe must send a young hunter named Tomás on a much more important trip through the Amazon.
The drug called "The Shari" has been used for vision quests over many years. But, when all the rivers start drying up, the tribe must send a young hunter named Tomás on a much more important trip through the Amazon.
You are a Master Storyteller! Loved this write!
Tami
Beautiful write..it goes into my library!
Vesna
I have just finished re reading this poem and it is awesome! I loved the images you brought to life. I felt I was there too. ;) Silver
PS: Thank you for your comment on my "dreamy poem". I send sweet dreams to you too.
Bright Blessings,
;) Silver
JC xoxoxo
As a Indian forefather of mine once said in kind of quote from another, "Let them pollute our rivers, let them kill our buffalo, let them fell our every blessed tree but when it boils down to their heavens and hells there they will never have or see me!"
((((Hugs))))
~Nikki~
Very inspiring WRITING.
I Salute thhe Author of "Lost".
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-Yehu
~Chrissie
Reindeer