Photo credit: Alex Sakariassen
Sleeping under my skin
are traces of shadows left behind.
My steps echo of the past,
and ring of moving forward.
My jaw is set against my own questions.
I try not to pay attention to what I tell myself
most of the time.
On the plains, where the sky marries the land in a sunset ceremony,
the souls of my ancestors bled and died.
The ghosts of real people,
whose descendants sleep in the beds of backhanded poverty and abuse,
whisper from the grasses…
as the wind slowly sweeps across the Ft. Peck prairie.
Scars of the past manifest in the shadows that follow me,
My heart is in the sky,
in the dirt,
in the green of the earth,
and I am torn.
I am a child of warriors dead and gone,
of generations of glorious women silenced.
My soul roars in tired revolutions,
quieted by necessity.
I have not disappeared.
This is my submission to dVerse Poets Pub Meeting The Bar. I’ve really enjoyed the opportunity to have my poetry read and read other’s work. I encourage anyone with an interest to check out their site.