Creation - A Spirit Place
After that storm,
was a Sacred Silence,
before the Light came
descending quickly,
transforming the water into spirit.
Moving now,
up,
breathing spirit
into Star people,
Father Sky,
Grandmother Moon,
Grandfather Sun,
Mother Earth,
Four Directions,
Winds,
then Clouds.
Oh, the spirits of earth,
high up, are born.
Winged Spirits
await the Creators breath,
bringing a oneness,
connecting the highs
to the down belows.
Circling with the wind,
they meet their journey within.
Bent on a breeze,
feathered and fluttered,
they know who they are to be.
They circle and travel the cycle
the spin of a day
before settling down, into the night.
Breathing spirit
into four leggeds,
creeping and crawling,
standing and stone,
the swimming and water ones.
Becoming and knowing, what they are,
where they fit,
shadowed or lit.
All earth's spirits
connecting into harmony,
fitting and aligning
their shadows to the light.
Being the balance of life.
Breathing spirit into human beings;
a mind, with eagle's sight.
A heart, to be good and right,
inwardly lit,
sacred like the pipe.
What is remembered,
from that purposeful start,
that hopeful beginning,
became lost in the dark.
From a heart misaligned,
came ill gotten shadows.
'What are these?
and where are they from,
when I was only looking for the sun'.
For what came from light,
emphasized shadow.
'Not mine' says he,
becoming hallow,
'I've only light'.
Discarded, his dark
forever skewed and out of balance,
not whole and without the defining
wandering in the unknown all the while.
As the speechless ones know,
their songs and chirps,
rustles and lappings,
hoots and howls,
warbles and whistles,
thunders and gales,
the truth.
That this breathing Spirit Place
was a Sacred gift of promise.
One that that was fulfilled in Creation,
a Spirit Place,
now blighted,
with words and works, disowned.
LauraLee K. Harris
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