Thursday, March 13, 2008

Buffalo

I saw a visage of friendship tonight.
I had a candle that I wanted to give her light.
I saw it being taken down from where it stood and
giving warmth to both of us.
Is this the sound of angels-
or another dirge?

I think about the chariots,
wheels within wheels.
Can you hear the flutter of angels' wings?
I hear it.
It propels me forth on my knees
before the throne of the great white
eagle.

The one spoken of in native tribes.
The great ones spoke of him, on the tribal land.
They knew His might. His power in the buffalo,
his sadness in their plight.
"Great and mighty is He. The keeper of our dreams."
They declared their allegiance to Him even as they
walked trails of sadness, tears that led to a new life.

I ask forgiveness for my sins,
of exploitation, even of my friends.
Let me accept all people.
Give me your weary, your tired, your poor.
This sheep has been shorn,
edges trimmed. Candle wick burning
just for Him.

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