Poem leftovers

As I debated within myself whether or not the “Untitled” poem should be left as is, or delve further into the mind, and what is being sought, I tossed these stanzas around.  These are lost in the ether now, searching for a new poem to hopefully pick them up.


Other Lines

(2)

Descending fully into the valley
this was not the terrain I imagined.

Grey and black debris from mountain tops
craggy, sharp protrusions; thorns and devils club

I had to step with care
my bare feet and naked body.

I still hear the medicine man
not a voice in any language I understood

but guttural, merging and transforming
into a vibration.

Allowing and giving in to the “voice”
I let go of the pain with

each step and slow the loss of blood
I have come to accept for now.

This is my path.
I choose to be here.

(3)

I hear music from far reaches
a distant piano, it is all I

hear, nothing moves, as the stream
passed days ago, absent of wind

the valley is calm, still, silent
passive, inviting – lulled into

a current sleep my eyes close
and I see things I did not see.


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