/                        been                       \
/                      thoughts                    \
|                           my                           |
|                         have                          |
|                  LANGUAGE                  |
|                           my                           |
|                            by                            |
|                 INFLUENCED                 |
|                              is                             |
|                            feel                            |
|                              or                              |
|                              do                              |
|                              or                              |
|                            want                            |
|                              or                              |
|                              say                             |
|                                i                                |
|                             that                             |
/                     EVERYTHING                     \
/                                   if                                   \

                  
^                                   ^                                ^
^                                   ^                                ^
^                                   ^                                ^
| language instructs | the way we think |
^                                   ^                          ­      ^
^                                   ^                                ^
^                                   ^                          ­      ^

A breathe of words ― 
a gust of thought scattered;
welling silence ruptures
bulging vault chambers
with the patience
of tongue-tied hearts

In a long deep breath
pith of soul manifests;
rich with the breathing spirit
of life that's passed

A timeworn lid spinning
on a blue glass jar
Indigenous roots
and memories tender,  
perpetuity gleaned
and garnered
on fruit cellar shelves

Segues of ancient culture ―
evolution derives
from many roots
trying to catch
time in a bottle;
a travelogue
of saved beginnings;
magic beans
in a mason jar

    Life’s native seeds gathered ―
organic building blocks
the immemorial soul
of the earth sown
and reaped;
sprouting unstilted
continuum
for which
ever fleeting time
cannot hold


Jesse e Stillwater
09  May  2018

This is my origin.
From here I was born.
The roots planted at my feet take me back to a land that was once ours.

In the color of my skin
I can see my ancestors.
Their beliefs.
Their customs.
Their history.
It is not lost.
It lives within me.
Within the native blood that courses through my veins.

I can hear the songs.
The music and the dances around a raging fire.
The song turns to screams.
Fire grows hotter.

The invasion begins by the original immigrants that now call it home.
Spilling blood with weaponry never seen before.
Talking in a language never heard before.
Preaching about gods never preached before.
Taking what once was ours and making it their own.
Calling it home.

But by the color of my skin.
And the blood filled roots within me.
We will remember.
What was once ours.