Point

We the creatures
Of fate once feathered,
Senses covered with earth, yet no
Harmony inland.
The oceans incantations speak of what it is
To be a man.

And if this blood should spill, crimson wine
In empty tavern,
Lie my body
Low to the ground,
Divert a river over what remains.

I will still carry this spear,
It guides me on,
It’s point breaks the air.

Advertisements

6 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    dulzimordash said,

    Reblogged this on Spontaneous Creativity.

  2. 3

    these words reached in and touched me.

  3. 5

    Too much blood has been spilled upon this land, and our Native brothers still await the harmony of all brothers to unite.. A poignant poem………. Deep in thought!

    Blessings Sue


Comment RSS · TrackBack URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: