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Submitted by dbaker on 7 February 2008 - 7:51pm.
Style / Type:
freeform
“Little Heart”
Bound to the land her spirit walks the hills.
Softly she floats on an evening breeze.
She moves over moon lit paths.
She stops before lintel and post.
Lovingly her fingers caress age old stone.
Ancient voices echo her passage down long abandoned rooms.
Stars cry happy tears, while Mother Moon sings “My heart, my little heart!”
Up winding stairs through a canyons birth.
Gathering spirit from places she has touched.
She steps naked to an evening sky.
Weaving her love into a tapestry of song.
She gives it away to the dawning of another day.
-DS Baker
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
This piece was written after a trip to Canyon de Chelly. I hope I have given you a small vison of that hauntingly beautiful place.
(1 vote)
“hauntingly beautiful” -
“hauntingly beautiful” - how appropriate - this lovely lyrical poem fits the place.
Mike
“not all matterings of mind equal one violet” ~ e e cummings ~
Thank you...
Sorry mate to not get back to your reply until now. Life sometimes gets in the way of having fun.
Thank you for your kind comments. I showed this piece to a Navajo or Dine’ friend of mine and he said, “David we don’t talk about things like that…but is very nice.”
It is a social, moral and religous taboo for the Navajo to talk about spirits. It is one of those places like the Henges of the UK that have to be experienced.
Slainte Maith
-DS Baker