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| POETRY |
The Lost Civilization- Published in Lyrical Iowa
(2005)
There was a time when I faced West
I could feel the warm breeze
And hear the thundering hooves of the buffalo
Run freely over the
rugged plains.
And in that time, I walked among men
Who noticed not the
color of other's skin
But the courage of their souls.
I was the first
vision of America, free to roam
Like the buffalo, enjoying the beauty
The Great Spirit had created. It was a time of greatness.
But now
that breeze carries the stench of a land lost
To progress. The sadness of
my heart is not for my
People. For they have known the softness of a gentle
breeze, the rush of a
Running stream and the quietness of a tumbling weed.
Others will never feel the oneness we have known.
They will take
hostage both a people and a land
And they will never stop to notice what
they have destroyed.
Mundane
Sophia
watches him leave in gray morning,
His same stuttered step, same drab stare
She gathers the soiled dull of yesterdays clothes
And fills the tired
basket
Cocked on her hip
Descends down the stairs
Matted slippers
concealing chipped red nails
A romance novel filled with women filled with
hope
Sophia could have been one of those women
Never.
Atop the
washer she waits for the spin cycle to take her
where her husband never
could.
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