Wolf Song

I have stood on the rock where my brothers
sent the notes of the wolf song
skirling upwards
to be lovingly woven into the
mantle of Father Sky
where they have been bathed
in the waking wistfulness of
Brother Moon’s mysterious smile

I race the glittering rush of
the St. Lawrence River glinting starlight
Sister River giving back the beauty
of heaven
so unselfish in her love
leading me into the deeper heart
of mystery in the woodlands
darkly flanking the
wisdom of the Great Lakes
uncovering what justice remains
hidden from the cold eyes of man

in the hard street of the city
where men are brought
together by gossamer hopes
and kept together by the
rough rope of despair
I let my song flow through
to touch the winding concrete canyons
waking ancient dreams
of spirit magic

and in the end I am free
to run in the flatlands that still
echo with rhythmic drum sounds
with full notes of the pain
of the plains people so long gone
remembered in the deep earth
mourned by the guardian spirits who
drag their feet across the land
lamenting for their children of sorrow

I can stand beyond the towers of rock and ice
where myths are made
at the western edge on the water
look into yesterday
with eyes that know only the
limits of love, the heights of pain
I am free to sing at last

(November 2003)


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