The Sunday Muse #153 Inspired by some words of Chief Seattle, a native American, and the image presented. Submitted on March 27, 2021.
Great Spirit, grant me the wings of an eagle
whose feathers I hold to carry me above this
white man’s cacophony. There is no quiet here,
no place to hear the sounds of small animals
in the woods, the quiet call of the owl to his mate,
the sound of breezes in the elms, fragrant and
cleansed by gentle spring rains. Once my people
here were plentiful as the buffalo that roamed
these plains, now all gone and replaced by these
who have no care for Mother Earth.
Grant me wings, Great Spirit, to rise above it all.