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The water is still under the moonless sky.
The animals have left this world of past.
But we stay for the hope of rebirth.
Can a yarrow tree grow from a single grain of sand?
But we still prey and wait.
Prey and wait, wait and prey.
Will it bring us our Eden?
Will it restore our green?
Will it bring back the moon, the sun?
Will it waken the tide?
Will our animals return?
To return to the empty, is not what I see..
They left for the reasons.
They felt the unseen.
They know what is written in pages of old.
They know of the cautions, the dangers they told.
We knew of them too.
But did we take heed?
We covered our ears.
Let selfish livees lead.
And we in the end, will leave this place soon.
Our faces of anger, disgrace, shame and doom.
The life is now gone.
Never to return.
A foolishman's lesson, we all had to learn.
- Title: Lament of Indian John
- Artist: The Spice
- Description: This poem is based firmly around a dream I had one night after placing a leaf of mugwort under my pillow. A witch I know believes if you place a leaf of mugwort under your pillow as you sleep, you will have vivid dreams. She was also Native American. This poem is based on images I saw that night. My witch was Native American and this is her sadness.
- Date: 10/13/2010
- Tags: lament indian john
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Comments (2 Comments)
- The Spice - 10/14/2010
- That is your faith, and faith is definitivly fiction. Only time will tell.
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- NakedJack - 10/14/2010
- Idealistic, which is to be expected from a poem, but also very shallow. The strong projections of a bleak, and hopeless existence are unshared by me, which leaves me with only one interpretation; Exaggeration, and fear mongering. Not that it's badly written or anything. Still, everything changes over time, except things we cannot control, obviously. It's not foolishness, just humanity growing up from teenagers to adults.
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