Life and Death

             

 When a person is born, two wolves are born as well. A white wolf and a black wolf. They both reside in the individuals heart.
               The black wolf is full of anger, stress, depression and disappointment.
               The white wolf if full of kindness, tranquility, hope and expectations.
               In all people the black wolf is naturally stronger. It feeds off of our environment and poisons our thoughts.
              We must be consistent in feeding the white wolf even though it is a constant struggle.

The wolf you feed is the wolf that wins.

Hospital Bed

White lights have become my stars

Sheets the rolling hills

The two bedposts are strong oaks

And the whirring AC the wind

The window is there

Yet amounts to nothing

Just a view of grey rooftops

Grey, grey, grey

I've always been good at fantasy

But sometimes reality is just there

Cold, dark and ominous

Yet warm and bright as well

I must live for the days in the sun

The birds and the wind

The starry nights 

The fresh air

The good times

Some things are too good to miss.

Moon Light Path

softened footsteps linger still

from wanderers long ago

star white lilies line the way

shivering in the wind they glow

an eerie silence fills the air

as shadows come and go

moon light path, a sacred place

peaceful, dark and cold

Caterpillar Girl

The girl was soft and gentle

Knew not how to harm

She lived inside a world

With not a single charm

Her one and only friend

Was a little leaf boy

He fed her the feeling love

He was her world and joy

The winds grew cold and mean

And leaf boy went away

Broke the poor girl’s heart

By choosing not to stay

Joy that turned to pain

Resided in her heart

She curled into a little ball

Her heart was torn apart

A woven wall built its way

Around her pained form

Casting her in stone

Safe from any storm

As she thought about her past

The pain wore into ache

Innocence to maturity

Forgiveness still to make

When the sun came up

The wall then melt away

A stronger version came to stand

And standing she would stay

In surprise she looked aback

Wings now graced her form

From them spread much joy

And mended heart past torn

A sweet flower of a man

Introduced himself to her

Loved her for who she was

Introduced her to the world

Storm

She laughs in the face of tribulation

Scoffs at the raging storm

She stands proud, her head held high

Securely held on the solid rock

She will not waver at the winds of time

Sink in doubt's dark waves

She is guarded by the King of kings

Shouting loud his victory cry

She is battered, bruised and beaten but

Stands ready for the judgement day

A Look at Listening

My boots scuffed across the gravely mud and into the barn.
"Scrrip. Scrrup. Scrrip. Scrrup.

I pulled the mounting block over and sat down to wait.
"Shhhhick. Fwump.

The rain came down at the perfect pace.
"Pitter patter pitter patter pitter patter."

The doors moved in the wind but one was looser than the other.
"Thunk. Thunk. Creeeaak. Thunk Thunk."

Three leaks slowly let drops of water fall to the floor.
"Drop drop drop dree-drip."
"Splat..............split splat."
"Plunk plink plunk plink."

The latch on the door occasionally joins in.
"Cluck clunk."

A goose.
"kooWAW! kooWAW!"

A bird.
"trrrrrriLLLL! trrrrrillllEEE!"

Another bird.
"Tweet twit tweet."

I hear my horse knock over the metal hay bin.
"Bwooh."

The wind picks up.
"hhhhhhhoaoa!"

The truck's engine starts.
"Grrrrrrumba rumba rumba rumba."

The truck pulls up to the barn on the muddy gravel.
"Crackle ping plunk thunk crickle crickle."

It is time to go.

Pitter patter. Thunk thunk. Creeeaak. Thunk thunk. Pitter patter. Drop drop dree-drip. Pitter patter. Cluck clunk. Pitter patter. kooWAW kooWAW! Pitter patter. trrrrriLLL! Tweet twit. Pitter patter. Hhhhoaoa!

The sound goes on.

Shaking and quivering the rosebud still wet with dew poked her head from among the leaves and blinked in the sunlight. Her frail petals, pink and soft, blew in the gentle wind. As the day walked on, the sun shined brighter and stole the moisture from underneath the bud’s leaves. She began to pant in thirst and the very ends of her green gown began to curl, shrivel and wilt. A squirrel raced by and knocked her down to the ground where she lay stunned for a second before slowly pulling herself back up. The previously gentle wind grew in force and whipped about her tearing and ripping her wilting pink halo. One of her arms snapped and out leaked a single, juicy tear. Then the rain came. At first it was salvation, sweet and wet, soothing her parched throat and reviving her shriveled skirt. It washed away the tear and cleaned the wound, but it wouldn’t stop coming. She was choking now. She couldn’t breath. It ceased to soak into her feet and began to climb up around her waist until she waded in it. A deer approached her and to her horror, shiny, white teeth descended toward her head and ripped it from her waterlogged body. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t feel, she couldn’t breath. Surely this was the end. Over time, new, soft and pink petals bloomed and blushed at the sun. She looked through her new eyes at her body and gasped and shuddered in horror. Her tender, green form had grown into a sturdy, tall and knobby trunk, and in place of the fuzzy hairs that used to grace her, had grown long, menacing thorns, defensive against the onslaughts of the world. The dew of the morning, streamed down her face, in sympathetic tears. Her dress, which used to be soft and light green had become tough and dark, having grown accustomed to the harshness of the sun. The rain came again, but she had grown and now soaked all it gave into her soles. Even so, a small puddle gathered at her knees and she glanced into it, gazing at her reflection. Staring back at her was not an innocent, naive, frail, quivering, pink bud, but instead a stunning rose, bursting in lush, deep magenta petals, fierce and beautiful. The wind came, no longer grinding her in the dirt but only pushing at her side. The sun beat down and still curled the ends of her leaves but no longer pierced her heart. The rain rushed at her but she drank it all. The deer came and bit at her petals but she patiently and proudly replaced them, increasingly more beautiful than before. She did not choose to be battered, beaten, soaked, and eaten. She did choose not to batter, beat, soak or eat those around her and that was the most beautiful thing of all.