Blow Choctaw wind
I hear the voice above
the voice of thunder
from behind the black clouds...
I hear the voice from below
the stampede of the buffalo
the tune of the crickets
from among the green plants...
So be it
mother gaia
where life begins
the cedar, oak, pine and the willow..
I am from the south
the land down below
where the turtle is silent
my grandfather's strung their bow...
I call for freedom
to the end of the land
the Seminole, Comanche, all bands
I call for the Four Sacred Winds...
Meet me at the rainbow stairs
follow the trail of song and sand
from where my father's came
out of the sky-land...
Comments (10)
Thanks for sharing this with us ken
Ken
Ken
Regards,
Ken
your poem.
Cafe
Ken
As Cafe said, the whole feel of it... and I can tell you're from the south in the descriptions of the various trees(I'm extremely allergic to those cedars-lol), and the turtles - lots in Okla. where I lived many years, though it's not considered the South - I lived in Moore(land of tornado alley), and just miles from Choctaw, Okla. I believe Oklahoma means red dirt -which it has tons of.
Many friends there also, who have Indian blood - mostly Cherokee and Comanche.
(Elvis Presley-from the deep South of Mississippi-was Irish/Cherokee heritage).
Aww... beautiful lines - 'Meet me at the rainbow stairs
follow the trail of song and sand'
Cat
Ken