Song To SkyBrush

... written to a dear friend who passed...

SONG TO THE HAWK, OWL AND WOLF:

SONG TO SKYBRUSH

Inspired by Native American teachings:

“Each life is precious and it is important to honor our beginnings; 

to remember that we effect all life. 

That our lives have meaning, and 

we are known by the tracks we leave.”

~~~

I.  Brother Hawk Soars:

and you paint the sky

with flaming vermilion,

violet, aqua and

shimmering fuchsia;

bold tastes that flow easily

on a summer day

turning the heat and humidity

of Iowan plains into

a cool breeze with

your  flapping wings.

You always did love to fly

and showed us your world

with dreamy eyes.

~~~

II. SkyBrush Rising:

I saw you fly,

brother Sky.

First as the ferocious Hawk, then

as the fearless Owl.

Flying as the spirit warrior

to where Tamaho first arose

on grassy plains 

and you began your this world, journey

as artist, wanderer,

seeker of Grandfather’s wisdom-

of the beauty

above and below.

So long ago, you entered this world

leaving foot prints

among untold words,

sailing down the Oronoco flow,

yet, it was not long enough.

For our world needs so much more

of you

from you.

This is the duty

and the obligation

as one of the people

that this artistic

journey demands.

Yet Dale,

you have given

and given,

and given.

Your have shown us what it is to live

no matter where

those wooden ships sail; no matter

how they impale

our sobbing hearts with pain.

You have shown us how to breathe

in life

as star gazers;

as nomads

wandering on an ever

changing universe.

~~~

III. Howling Brush:

running, roaming, laughing

as brother wolf

when I first met you,

unfettered, on

midnight trails

by the mountain lake.

I was chasing my tail

in contented circles

when you challenged me

to a game of tag,

and then to some of your grandma’s

homemade tea,

while we sat, restless, howling

under the old oak tree.

We told outrageous stories

of dancing with human beings,

and flying with condors

on cloudless skies.

You even claimed to be friendly

with an old, grouchy grizzly bear.

And I believed every word.

Even the moon made itself full

when you would howl

and paint the world in metaphor

at the PoetryCafe,

located just this side of cyber space.

Yes my friend,

as brother wolf

you were a howling Brush,

and I your open canvas.

~~~

IV. Sky’s Mysterious Brush:

flowed with colored psychedelia

and words,

yes words, shaded in pastels

as well as whimsy;

fashioned in chaotic order along

the broad strokes

of conscious designs,

reaching into the prism

of your mind,

refracting the elements of light,

turning each nuance uttered

into the evenings springtime wind

blowing across Iowan plains

and piercing a receptive heart.

It was a magical brush

filled with mystery;

filled with the thrill of sky

seen while laying 

on a hill of clover.

~~

I see you flying brother Owl.

I see you running, cousin wolf.

I see you on your journey

moving along the trail

of beauty " above and below",

finally in harmony,

with Grandfather’s brush

showing you the way.

But old friend 

I am missing you.

It is lonely under this old Oak

listening to the leaves 

singing the old stories of

brother SkyBrush.

~~redzone 7.20.06

  

Author's Note

Note: SkyBrush was a good friend. He was poet, painter and story teller. I met him at another poetry site and we were sometimes partners in "stirring things up", poetically of course. I have many of his creative art works. He suffered terribly with hepatitus C and died a few months before I wrote this poetic tribute to him... His name was Dale Hillard and I miss him, his humor, his stories.... he was a wonderful human being...

Reviews

[TL Boehm]

This is rich with imagery and sentiment. Love the treatment of it - as a tribal story - the strong beautiful references to nature, lovely poignant piece for your friend.

[redzone]

Thanks TL. He would have smiled at my poem, and then offered me some of "grandma's tea". I am sorry that he never got to read it.