Live Fast, Love Hard, and Die Young

To my brother Do you know that my earliest memory of you was when I rode on your shoulder? You dropped me, and I cut my head. The scar is still there. Later, I remember you helping our mother a lot, taking care of us little ones, Even though we were girls and shamed your pride. I remember you washing…

Superficial Wounds

They really beat up the bear; That was when he left home. I think it was to find true love— Little did he know it never was far, Nor did anyone figure that was his goal. Everyone thought he was just a bear, doing what bears do; Leaving for a while but sooner or later to return. Five years passed…

The Big Meeting

Thunderheads of Minds loomed menacingly on the horizon. The meeting began, instantaneous and voluble— A sprinkling of words A showering of thoughts A gushing of sincerity A drenching of facts and names Then, a flushing torrent of opinions— A flashing of negative feeling Quickly followed by thunderous applause. Finally, a faint rainbow of reconciliation. And after it all had evaporated…

The Black Sea’s Water Tastes Like Tears

I watch the waves roll over me, I feel the water batter its boundary. Jagged land’s teeth restrain me, resisting This warm salt embrace that calms and compels me To enter an ocean of tears From when Creator cried (When he lost me). Adding my own drops I reach for stars— Faraway holes in Heaven’s floor— I wonder if he…

Winds of Breath Blow

In darkness millions of stars shoot and float about this vast universe casting magic spells Fragments of light and zaps of energy collect into clear turquoise blue sky embrace Winds of breath blow across this blessed North American continent Nookoonan—our home Majestic Rocky Mountains surround Ninastako—Chief Mountain rolling hills, golden plains, and green valleys vibrant streams, turbulent rivers, and smooth…

Hands

Years ago, men stood against the old bank on Main Street. On warm, sunny days I casually watched as they visited. Their eyes each told a story— a story of hardships. A story of struggles. A story of survival. A story of relatives and friends now long gone. Their hands emphasized their stories. Weathered hands. Tired hands. Brown hands. Hands…

The Braid

I am made of hundreds of strands of hair. Each strand resilient, beautiful, unique. Each strand the colors of the earth. Each strand illuminated by the sun. Each strand cleansed by the rain. Each strand shaken by the wind. Like the people who wear me, I am strong. My strength is found in the strands gathered to make a plait….