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Mysteria

Member Laureate

since 2001-03-07

Posts 18328
British Columbia, Canada

0 posted 2001-03-08 02:36 PM

~*~ THE SEVENTH MOON ~*~
(A Short Story Poem)

She stood upon the ancient rock wailing at the moon,
She cried tears of anger up to spirits in the sky,
She knew she would kiss her brave goodbye soon.
And again, she cried for her people asking “why?”

Her brave that was so muscled and strong,
Would leave for the battle at the new moon.
This would be the third time he survived a battle,
She wondered if he would be killed in battle soon.

He was painted in his colors, the face of war,
Only a bearskin, hacket, and gun at his side,
He sadly bowed his head to hide his tears,
From the maiden now standing at his side.

He has risen before the coming dawn,
Seeking the elders, who sit by a fire now dim,
The sky was ablaze with sad, red premonition,
He took her hand, and held his maiden close to him.

Anger for his forefather’s rights overwhelmed him,
Why did they have to protect what was theirs?
Blood stained, every blade of grass,
Each path walked was stone mixed with bone,
They ravaged wildlife and land without care.

They had violated trust and most of their women,
Brought disease in blankets, in fair trade,
His anger and hate left him no choice but to fight,
Visions of his forefathers would not seem to fade.

They had offered them friendship, wisdom and food,
Showed how they connected to a spirit world of love,
Each had a spirit that watched over them,
Where their ancestors rested somewhere above.

He rode swift and hard, death painted on his face,
He thought he heard a battle cry, but felt peace,
As he knew this battle was raged in another time,
Sometime back in history, only at a different place.

Many moons passed, winter winds like burning flames,
Flames unable to melt her empty, ice-filled heart.
She hated them, the color of her skin, her people,
She cried why did matter, what caused this to start?

It was on the evening of the seventh moon,
She stood upon the ancient rock still waiting,
In the distance, shadows moving slowly like snails,
But she was delighted, as the sight left her in awe.

Warriors, sick and wounded approaced the village,
She ran in excitement when she could see her love.
He was alive, but wounded and trailing his horse;
She fell to the ground and prayed to her G*d above.

His hide was crusted with his blood and pride,
It showed more than wounds, that were his pain…
This time she knew something inside him was lost,
Nothing would bring her love’s spirit back again.

As she laid there on the ground that was theirs,
He rested a hand on her shoulder gently,
Wanting to sooth the pain in her heart.
How many must die for unity and peace?
Tomorrow, a new battle would begin somewhere.

Dedicated to my friends of the Squamish Indian Band
Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada

~*~A poet is someone who reads more than they write ~*~

Sunshine

Administrator

Member Empyrean

since 1999-06-25

Posts 63354
Listening to every heart

1 posted 2001-03-08 02:50 PM

I know many who will bookmark this one...well done....

Jellybean King
Member

since 2001-03-07

Posts 153
Jelly, Bean

2 posted 2001-03-08 03:52 PM

Hi it's me!

This was nothing short of fabulous! Reminded me of something being told around a campfire, with elders and children. It flowed gracefully from one stanza to the next and delivered its powerful message like an arrow into the heart. Thanks for the great read.

Jellybean King

Poet deVine

Administrator

Member Seraphic

since 1999-05-26

Posts 22612
Hurricane Alley

3 posted 2001-03-08 03:55 PM

Oh Wow!!! This is truly wonderful! I love it. And the graphic sets it off nicely! (I'm going to put it into my library if you don't mind, for future reference and possible inclusion in the Digital Passions Newsletter.)

Poet deVine

Administrator

Member Seraphic

since 1999-05-26

Posts 22612
Hurricane Alley

4 posted 2001-03-08 03:56 PM

Duh! Forgot to click the box......sigh.

Marge Tindal

Member Empyrean

since 1999-11-06

Posts 42384
Florida's Foreverly Shores

5 posted 2001-03-08 07:52 PM

Mysteria~
Oh, what a poignantly lovely tale.
We stand with pride - together~
Mitakuye Oyasin~
~*Marge*~

~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~
noles1@totcon.com

ethome
Member Patricius

since 2000-05-14

Posts 11858
New Brunswick Canada

6 posted 2001-03-12 02:08 PM

Great Mysteria!...I really support this kind of writing. There is so much to be brought out into the open and this is a wonderful form of doing so! Keep on with these thoughts... this is excellent work by the way! take care ethome

Mysteria

Member Laureate

since 2001-03-07

Posts 18328
British Columbia, Canada

7 posted 2001-03-12 02:59 PM

Sunshine: thank you for your vote of confidence.

Jellybean King: thank you for neverending reading of my long, drawn out tales, and support.

PoetdeVine: I don't know what a digital newsletter is but sounds great! Thank you for taking the time to read this.

Marge: I am so glad you enjoyed this. The love story really could be anyone's.

ethome: I guess as a Canadian, you would understand my writing...either you support them or you don't it is that simple. The Band I dedicated this too have given me more spiritual awakening than I could ever put into words, and I write often of tales told to me by the elders of this tribe. A lot of my stories are ideas I get from legends or stories passed down that have been told to me at the longhouse.

To all, thank you for enduring my LONG stories. I try to say things in 10 lines or less sometimes too - lol!

~*~A poet is someone who reads more than they write ~*~

kismetkelsey
Junior Member

since 2001-03-12

Posts 32
Canada

8 posted 2001-03-13 12:29 PM

I loved this and though it was long it was beautiful and flowed beautifully from beginning to end!I love the pic too!Can you tell me how to get pictures to attach or do I follow the same directions as you sent before?
Enjoyed this story Mysteria!

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