Part of the Written on the Wind poetry collection.
Dedication: I dedicate this poem to all the kind people Ive "met" wandering in the "magic" land of Four Corners May the Seven ride forever!
Feedback: Yes. But no flames please!
The Ghost of Confederacy
We walk in the middle of an ochre cloud,
Dust rising before us and falling behind us
Slow and gently settling where it lay.
There are times
When name, identity and our very hands
Grow most hateful to us
And we would gladly rid us of these burdens
Name, body, speech and faith.
I had such hours,
By a steady hand on my shoulder
Drawn me back .
And now I can love again
The secrecy of the earth
And the wandering seasons.
For how can I reject
a true friendship?
Thought come a different destiny
Though fall a universal wrong
More stern than savagery
Men are made of what is made,
The flesh, the blood, the soil
And simple spells make unafraid
The haunted labyrinths of the heart.