Fog and MemoriesA Poem by redzone....another poem in the Native SpiritFog
and Memories The
fog rolled in thick over
the field behind our house. Sitting
on the deck I
couldn’t see Willow Creek, but
could hear its flow as
the water ran past the tall Oak. The
fog rose from the grass to
greet the sun announcing
the arrival of Spring and
warmer days. In
the garden’s far corner, green
sprigs of Tulip blades were
beginning to reach for sunlight, and
soon colorful flowers will
decorate and
put on a show. These
signs of the yearly cycle reminds
me of my Grandmothers. One
of long ago native spirit, the
other white. But.
both knew the ways of balance. After
giving blessings to
the 4 directions, burning
sage to
purify the area I sat in, I
began to remember what
my Grandmothers taught
me: “Respect the Earth, my son. You are part of it’s story. You must always give back what you take and make better that which you find.” “To be human, respect the 4 directions, burn the sage of purity and see the continuity and balance in all things.” We
live in dark times, night
eats the day and
I am unable to sleep. There
is no balance in a world on
the verge of calamity. Extinction
takes aim at humanity as
cannons roar, swords
rattle and
atoms come
loose at the seems of life as
armies battle in
blood and gore. “Also remember, my son, out
of darkness, comes light. What exists for destruction also contains the potential for
construction. Out of extreme ugliness there is potential for great beauty. It all depends on what tracks you want to leave.” The
fog has lifted, my
Grandmother’s voices dissipate on
the morning’s breeze, my
coffee has grown cold, and
I realize there is a lot of work to do. Aztec
Warrior/redzone 4.15.22 © 2022 redzoneAuthor's Note
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Added on June 20, 2022Last Updated on June 20, 2022 Author
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