Sight

Second Sight

by Riverwatch

Between times, between the last clutch of dark and the first break of dawn,

Between times, like when the day is gone and before twilight blooms full,

Between times like the exit from living and the entrance to dying,

they come. 
Unbidden. Strangely welcome. Unworldly.

They do not stay.

Between places like water and land,

Between places like arriving and settling,

Between leaving and disappearing,

Between landed and airborne,

Between islands,

Between home and new places,

they come. 
Unbidden. Strangely welcome. Unworldly.

They do not stay.

Between the waking and the sleeping

and the sleeping and the waking,

Between the wellness and the illness

and the illness and the healing,

Between the turmoil and the peace,

they come. 
Unbidden. Strangely welcome. Unworldly.

They do not stay.

Between the home and the refugee camp,

Between the time of prosperity and the time of loss,

Between the freedom and the jail sentence,

they come. 

Between the entering and the being there,

Between the dryness and the misting vapor,

Between the motion and the stillness

they come. 
Unbidden. Strangely welcome. Unworldly.

They do not stay.

I cannot touch them with the windy fingers of my soul,

but like a flash of light illuminating the world around me, 
there is a brief touch to my mind,

dragging me for a nano-second into a dimension beyond my world,

changing me in ways I cannot control nor imagine, 
nor know in any way except for sure.

Between.

Ahhh!

Where the Sidewalk Ends

by Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends

And before the street begins,

And there the grass grows soft and white,

And there the sun burns crimson bright,

And there the moon-bird rests from his flight                  

To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black

And the dark street winds and bends.

Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow

We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,

And watch where the chalk-white arrows go

To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,

And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,

For the children, they mark, and the children, they know

The place where the sidewalk ends.

If I Were an Indian

    

If I Were an Indian

by Riverwatch

If I were an Indian,

I would walk in nature, talking to my friends, the trees.
youwall.com

   

If I were an Indian,

I would look at the inferiority of the pale faces and be at rest within my soul.

If I were an Indian,

I would look upward to the Great Spirit and rest in the peace that all will be well.

If I were an Indian,

I would drink only fresh flowing clear water from Mother Earth and bathe in it daily.

If I were an Indian,

I would be monogamous and I would die for my family if need be.

If I were an Indian,

I would mold families from the remains, the disinfranchized left-overs, the bits and pieces of humanity found on the landscape.

If I were an Indian,

I would listen more than I speak, so as to surprise the pale-faces.

If I were an Indian.

I am an Indian.

I sit under my silk tree and cry to my tree, my best friend.

I am an Indian.

I listen intently to one and all, including the trees.

I am an Indian.

My family is ever changing, ever growing, ever changing.

I am an Indian.

I find the waterfall and stand with head bowed, long dark hair loose over my face, letting the water splash over my back.

I am an Indian.

I am a hybrid.

I sit under my silk tree and cry outloud and noisey to my silk tree, sometimes screaming.

I am a hybrid.

I listen intently and speak many many words.

I am a hybrid.

I walk separate and apart in nature, fearing man yet knowing I am surrounded by rocks and trees who know me and wish me well.

I am a hybrid.

I long for fresh water even as I drink chemicals.

I long for the waterfall on my back and long dyed hair.

I am a hybrid.

I am too fierce to be monogamous and too proud to be polygamous.

I am a hybrid.

My family is ever changing, ever growing, ever changing, while I whine about change and judge the ungodly.

I am a hybrid.

Great Spirit, have mercy.

Remember me when I was an Indian and judge me not for the Way being lost.

I

Desiderata

Desiderata

by Max Ehrmann   1927

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter;

for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals;

and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.

Especially, do not feign affection.

Neither be critical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars;

you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be,

and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be careful. Strive to be happy.

Just for you,

Riverwatch