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JT Nelson Jun 4
I visited my harbor
A refuge among the waves
I walked among giants
And touched the cold firm ground
And rocks that formed foundations
Of communities and families
Of a world handed down

I saw the faces of my elders
I felt the hands of my grandmothers
On my shoulders
As I scrubbed the stones clean
The sun shone on my neck
Warming me as I worked.
One last rinse of their headstone

And my task was done
They sparkled and smiled
Back at me
And as the dates in the stones held fast,
My clock continued to advance
And I left knowing I felt better
Their embrace was healing.
My Memorial Day routine and escape when I need to talk to my dad.
shamamama May 8
Some strong sensations on my ankle
Unravel me
Dissolve me

Remind me
When pain and suffering
Led the path

I thought it was real,
Was the only,
Was the only way--

And now I wake up to ten thousand
Hairs on the soles of my feet
Tugging me
Into the day
From starlight
And ancestors
Going my way

Remember, remember
I walk on these feet
With curiosity, flexibility,
Wonder and love

Grandmother Earth
Is right down below-- So
Today I can step on
The ground with pure joy,
Embracing this place by
Loving breath from my soles
A Long while ago I was challenged for a few weeks by my legs, I learned to approach life and "my doings" with reverence and love to ceremony, intention, and awareness.
marianne May 4
I want to know where I’m from
the very place—
a finger tip touch on a globe spinning
drawn to as by magnet
a return, cup filled
with holy water
an arrival

I am a hedgewitch
navigating the slippery edge
where land meets water
body meets spirit
I meets we—
unearthing the violence
of conviction, the thunderous tearing up
of roots, my people unbound
and running
where are they? (where am I?)
If not in land and place
where do our spirits rest?

There in the lowlands, eyes softening
my bones shift and settle, senses
rise and quiver, and the winds bring stories
fermented by the sun
preserved by salty ocean
retold in the language of tiny creatures
and deep roots—
those that remained

I want to lie down in soil made up of my ancestors,
embraced by bones
Regina Fable May 4
I reach back through memory and mortality
To inspire that which I am to become
Exciting the bones of my ancestors
Their feathers of black and red and white
The golden rays of dead and declining stars
Deflecting off the face of the moon
"Is life still real if it echoed?"
"Yeeess," they exhale from eons past.
The first and only answer to an ageless urge
Stretching to me, through me
Filling the unfathomable empty
With intimacy and evidence
New issues to nurture
Most seeds remain in the shadows
Dreaming of a shift in the design
Stardust progressing toward potential
Again and again and again
And again the bond is broken
And refashioned
I am remembered
In unsettled frenzy, my soul awakens
Setting alight my future
Star BG May 2
In a stella speed of light
I speak to God,
my Ancestors and Angels.
I echo gratitude
and love.
And in a blanket of instant feelings
responses surround
floating within.
I am showered with love.
Umbrella not needed.
inspired by Kryon’s talk called God in a Box. He's on You tube
Sai Kurup Apr 10
Head spinning
Heart aching
Torn between worlds
Like cloth being ripped apart

One of tradition
Speaking my native tongue
Wearing my culture
A dress adorned
With the tales of nameless ancestors
Lost to history

One of modernity
Pursuing the passions
That burn like a blazing sun in me
Eyes sharp, voice echoing

Trying to find day and night
In search of me
Zywa Mar 22
O sweet promise! I am childless
yet blessed forever

and threatened with eradication
of my descendants

if they become disobedient
and keep their *******

In the darkest nights
of my doubts, I lie down
on a warm stone under the stars

to see how innumerable
people will be born

I dream of one great nation
but my son is a wild ***

who fights against all
and all fight against him
Abram = Exalted father, High father
Abraham = Father of many nations (Genesis 15:5 and 17:5)
Ishmael is his eldest son, a wild man (Genesis 16:12)

Collection “From Sacred Scripts”
Arianna Feb 28
"... generations unfurl,
red ribbons of time and experience,        
journeying to the Moon and back  
in the ancestral clay buried in my bones..."
to our forefathers;

who fought for our rights for golden years

who bled for peace even before we were born

who screamed for our freedom for decades

who died and dedicated their lives for the future and welfare of the Bangsa,


the tears of the mothers, the widows and the orphans will now turn into joy

the flowers will bloom in the battleground of the blood and sweat of the Mujahideen

the scars of the bullet wound from the past will now heal

to the survivors who continued the fight;

the war is over, you can now rest and start over.

no more running, no more hiding.

you can now take the streets and dance with your grandchildren without worries.

no more guns to carry, only pens to write new beginnings

this time, a beautiful one.
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