Sunday, February 24, 2013
The Olde Men Say the Earth Only Endures.
You Spoke Truly.
You Spoke Right.
did Not Know then
How Much was Ended.
When I Look back now From this High Hill of my Olde Age,
I can still See the Butchered Women and Children
Lying Heaped and Scattered
all Along the Crooked Gulch
as plain as When my Eyes Saw Them with Eyes still Young.
And I can See that Something Else
Died there in the Bloody Mud,
and was Buried there in the Blizzard.
A People's D ream Died There.
It was a Beautiful Dream...
the Nation's Hoop is Broken and Scattered.
There is No Center any Longer,
the Sacred Tree
24 February, 2013
Posted by Beannaichte's Blog at 10:47:00 PM
Friday, February 22, 2013
far into the Night,
Other Nights it's Hawaii, Singapore or Paris,
The open Road, like a Temptress sighs,
Luring me on with Promises
of Adventure and Intrigue.
Inevitably, you Turn to me,
Eyes Gently locked in Sleep.
the haunting Invitations
Fade into the Darkness.
And I am left to Ponder my Life as it is,
as it was Before.
Rolling over, Sleep comes Easily.
I am Content
21 February, 2013
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Friday, February 15, 2013
They're On Loan to you,
Those Little Ones you Call your Own.
Love them At a Distance,
Let Them Breathe.
When They Leave You,
Let Them Seek Truths of their Own.
They Have their Roads to Travel,
Just as You Do yours.
Let them Fall and Muddy their Faces.
Let them Pick Themselves
back Up again.
Let Them Be.
15 February, 2013
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
I have heard
that you intend to settle us on the reservation near the
Mountains. I don't want to settle. I Love to roam over the Prairies.
There I feel Free and Happy, but when we settle down we grow
pale and die. I have laid aside my lance, bow, and shield, and yet
I feel safe in your presence. I have told you the Truth. I have no
little lies hid about me, but I don't know how it is with the commissioners.
Are they as Clear as I am? A long time ago this Land Belonged to our
Fathers; but when I go up to the River I see camps of soldiers on its banks.
These soldiers Cut down my Timber;
they Kill my Buffalo;
and when I See that, my Heart feels like Bursting;
I feel Sorry...
Has the white man Become a child
that he should Recklessly kill and not eat?
When the red men slay game,
They do so that they may Live
Chief of the Kiowas
12 February, 2013
Monday, February 4, 2013
Give All the Heart,
Will Hardly seem worth Thinking of
To Passionate Women if it seem
Certain, and they Never Dream
That it Fades out from Kiss to Kiss;
For Everything that's Lovely is
But a Brief,
Give the Heart Outright,
For they, all Smooth Lips can Say,
Have Given their Hearts Up to Play.
And Who could Play it Well enough
If Deaf and dumb
and Blind with Love?
that Made This
Knows all the Cost,
For he Gave
All his Heart
~W B Yeats
4 February, 2013
Friday, February 1, 2013
were the Romantic.
I was just being Practical, Remember?
It was, in Fact, the shortest, most Direct Line
from the Bridge where we'd Meet
to that big olde Oak I Loved.
I still Recall how Handsome you looked,
Laughing back Over your Shoulder.
Even then you Called me an olde Slow Poke,
Remember how I Wept,
when my Oak came Down for the new Highway?
Then the Creek that ran Under the Bridge
I suppose it had No Reason to go on Anymore,
No Where to go.
But the Path we Made Goes on.
Remember when it was all Untouched Meadow?
We Made it a Path, you and I.
Once it was all Ours,
and that Meant Something.
1 February, 2013