Peace Calling

Peace Calling

Peace started calling early,

when I was young,

but I still wanted the thrills.

My mini-bike was fast,

very fast, and I loved the sound,

of the engine roaring,

pulling back on the throttle,

and riding secretly down the street.

Then there was Jeannie Crawford,

I could not believe that girl,

was real. Awestruck.

Still, we had moved to the country,

and something there was real.

It faced me everyday –

as I looked out of my bedroom window,

fields, and woods, and further out

corn fields with deer. I felt it

tangible.

The trails and trees became my friends,

especially in the winter,

hiking,

enveloped by the whiteness,

and silence,

drifting to another world,

somewhere out there.

Was that a Cheyenne warrior?

He looked at me with questions,

in his eyes.

I said, “I do not know why”.

I thought of history with tears,

Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee.

Snow falling,

I was still – inwardly,

until searching made me cold.

Peace in the cold felt right though.

I headed back for some tomato soup,

and peace followed me for awhile,

until I saw Jeannie Crawford.

 

© Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree

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