In a place
where the sky stretches wide,
forever,
wherever the eye might rest.
Painted lines,
smooth , sinuous hues
and warning signs;
no kind deceptions.
Heart on its sleeve,
stretched
West to East.
Variegated rainbow,
no phenomenon lasts long.
Stood against such a backdrop,
every heavenly light,
lit in the black
of this hallowed, empty land.
This must have been a place
of strong medicine.
Even the trees have secrets.
In such a gold and crimson dawn,
the day slips on
a mist coat,
or a deeper fog.
Concealing her charms
until hot sun comes.
Perfect in her wild heart;
untameable,
unreasonable,
breathtaking
and terrible,
like reading the mind of God
and knowing awe
and beauty,
and suffering
all at once.
No grainy,
half building,
hidden image,
washed out by radiant eyes
and mixed silicon circuits.
Some places are still sacred.
Shaman circles,
whistling the auroras
into deep slashes across the sky.
The spirits
wrap themselves around Polaris
and bring still winter;
cold as death.
Never straining.
Making the hard life easy.
Only the Ever-Dark
shows the procession
of Orion across the sky.
A cathedral of stillness,
ice and night
and light of burning objects
seen through time,
like a scrying stone.
Deep, fire red;
neon dawn.
A new day spills out
from the cut throat
of the night before.
It is what is;
this land
this sky.
We are under one
and children of the other,
until the time
that our roles reverse.
HG – 2018
