The Sunday Muse #153 Inspired by some words of Chief Seattle, a native American, and the image presented. Submitted on March 27, 2021.
THE PLEA
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.
Oh Beverly you have outdone yourself here!! This is a beautiful prayer and poem. One that will not be soon forgotten. Truly lovely writing my friend!!
ReplyDeleteI feel power and the pain in the plea. May it reach the ears of those who need to hear it.
ReplyDeleteThese tearful words are as gentle they are as intense. Beautiful, Bev.
ReplyDeleteDeeply stirring. Bravo
ReplyDeleteHappy Sunday Bev
(✿◠‿◠)
much love
such a strong yearning in your words Bev - really enjoyed reading this
ReplyDeleteThese words carry a lift and pressure of their own.
ReplyDeleteHer posture and your words create the perfect message, perfect.
ReplyDeleteA very salient prayer. If I cannot change the world let me be changed instead.
ReplyDeleteThis is marvelous! I really love where you went. Grant me wings, yes, we need those wings.
ReplyDeleteThis poem really resonates with me, Bev. Loved every line.
ReplyDelete“Grant me wings, Great Spirit, to rise above it all.”
ReplyDeleteWhat a perfect prayer.
What a wonderful prayerful plea Beverly.
ReplyDeleteA powerful prayer that should touch every human being.
ReplyDeleteA great prayer to point out what went wrong. A plea with courage, Bev!
ReplyDeleteHank
Oh, this goes right to my heart. I so feel it, believe it.
ReplyDelete