As the desert sun beats down
turning to ash, everything in sight,
the desert wind sings
mournful wailing songs
for millenniums past.
I stand upon the parched ground,
boot heels digging into the cracks,
beneath the shade of
a broken down and now abandoned
shell of a shack’s roof.
although the weight of death
seems to fill the air,
the ancient energy of human presence
dances around me,
stronger than I’ve
ever felt,
leaving me light headed
and swaying in the moment.
I lay down upon a rickety bench,
I begin to hear my name
amongst the wind’s wailing songs,
calling me to come home,
come home,
suddenly I awake
feeling cleansed, rebirthed, renewed,
and ready to make my way again,
on my own ancient desert trail.
still hearing the voices,
as I walk on past time.
The days moved slowly, but did pass.
He had spent the last three dreaming
of his mentor Wakan Tanka.
Calling him from Han in darkness,
waiting for his sign of answer.
It had come in bits and pieces
of Ojibwa legend mainly.
Thirty days purification
Of mind, body, spiritual.
Bathed in ginger, pomegranate.
In the round house incense offered,
Calls shadow land of Lakota.
Nagila, Nagila come be my bride.
The hawk and fox are beside me.
I have fasted forty summers,
visited the spirit of death.
Niya, the spirit of life’s blood
has lifted me up to the stars.
She has cleansed with healing waters.
Now let me take the talisman.
Now let me repeat the promise.
Now let me take my rightful place
among my people as Shaman.
Apr 16 2011 CGH the Ojibwa of the
north western plains
Wakan Tanka- creator of the Sioux
Han-place of great emptiness, darkness
Nagila-shadow land
Niya-breath of life
ginger and pomegranate-not factual
My Spirit
My spirit clings to these forest trees,
seeking the help and revenge that I need.
Underneath them he greedily took me with his filthy body,
leaving me bleeding between my knees.
Hours later I died,
leaving few if any leads.
My spirit whispers for help still
within the leaves of these hardwood trees.
I was pleading for help as loud as I could,
while he was planting deep in me his family seed.
My pleas, echo in soft whispers
as the wind blows through the green leaves.
This is a ghost/horror poem about a young girl's spirit haunting the trees in a forest. She
was raped of her virginity and her girlhood by a disgusting man under the trees. Hours later
she died. This is her story telling of the echoes that still can be heard, if you listen carefully.
My children are all grown and have gone to seek their own lives. Since that time on different
occasions, I had two very close friends show me their warts and tell me how they've worn
them since the age of five. They didin't even know each other. I listened very carefully
while
each told all they've tried and how they wished to be rid of them. One of my friends even
cried. And then I told them the story of the Spirit of the Healer Ms Agnes as I held their
hands in mine. When I said, "maybe. Just maybe there's enough of the Spirit of The Healer
Ms Agnes left in there for you too", Not wanting to give false hope I added, "it may not
work
it's been such a long time".
Many moons went by before I saw those two friends again. But the first thing they wanted to
tell me was that they awoke with their warts in their bed and to offer me thanks. "No thanks
goes to me" said I. "It's all the Spirit of The Healer Ms Agnes who comes to make the warts
go away. I am merely a vessel" I said, as I hugged them goodbye.
The End
Copyright © by Scarlett Anderson
Oh Great Spirit whose voice I hear in the winds and whose breath gives life to
everyone, hear me.
I come to you as one of your children. I am weak. I am small. I need your wisdom
and your strength.
Let me walk in beauty, and make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunsets.
Make my head respect the things you have made and make my ears sharp so that I
may hear your voice.
Make me wise so that I may understand what you have taught my people and the
lessons you have hidden in each leaf and each rock.
I ask for wisdom and strength. not to be superior to my brothers but to fight my
greatest enemy, myself.
Make me ever ready to come before you with clean hands and a straight eye, so as
life fades away as a fading sunset, my spirit may come to you without shame.
Yakoke
Copyright © by Scarlett Anderson
you said you were gonna take me to the movie's
you said you were gonna take me out for dinner
you said you were gonna take me to the mall
but you broke your word.