It was winter when he left the reservation. No one sought a vision in the winter, but he did, he needed to. Maybe vision wasn’t the right word, but he was searching for cleansing……some type of hope, anything really. Despair and vodka had taken their toll. It was good to be in the mountains again, even with the snow. And he smiled noticing how slow his mule was.
He had everything he needed, the mule, a good rifle, his bow (that he had made years ago from the finest oak), and a small lodge with blankets. He knew he was also carrying grief for his people, the poverty and sickness slowly killing them…. yes a vision is what they all needed.
Days later, with a fire going….. the vision came in the smoke and flames. He saw his people being reborn. It was spring and everything was blooming. The people were strong and happy…. not sick at all.
He knew he must take this vision back to his people, to encourage each one. The end of all things…. was not quite not yet.
Rosa heard music again, a choir singing “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”, in the distance. As she sat on the edge of her bed, tears flowing, she looked over at her mother’s picture on her nightstand. She could still hear the words, the arguing, from the last night Rosa saw her alive.
“Mama they will call me a whore!”. She knew it wasn’t true, but she was willing to say anything that night to get her off the track of Rosa going to church. “Rosa, please…it’s Christmas Eve after all.”
It was the night her mother passed away. And the guilt Rosa felt about everything, was crashing in on her now, including the wild parties, and drinking until she was senseless.
Grabbing her head, and laying on the bed, the pain was getting worse. And why were the women at her job so mean to her today? She could not help it that she didn’t know English very well. They were vicious, and all for working at a fast-food restaurant!
She shouted, “I hate Christmas!” into the ceiling, then sat up and went for the pill bottle in her nightstand. She stopped, there was that music again….. “Where was it coming from……?”
She also had a feeling, an unusual sense, that someone else was there in the room now…..but strangely, she wasn’t afraid. And then oddly someone sat on her bed…..or at least it seemed that way, but she didn’t see anyone…..
I sure do enjoy writing like this, as you probably know! It is my art, but more than that, it is very much who I am…..as I share pieces of my light. My intention is to encourage both you and I.
Please understand though that when I write of overcoming pain and suffering, it doesn’t mean that I am going through anything at the time. Yes, I write from experience, but I do not write as a therapy.
I simply create, often praying about what I should write. And when I do or sometimes even before I even get to that point, the words just flow through me, in varying degrees. That’s how my poems are created, and how I came up with the term “wordflow”. Maybe you write poetry like that too.
As a side note, I haven’t started on the renovations of my site yet, but I will soon! I want it to reflect more of who I am now.