The Lakota mother teaches
her child she is related
to every living thing.
The squirrel is your brother,
the flowers are your sisters.
Experience draws us into
a kinship and bond
with our fellow humans,
our cousins and friends.
The connection is in the surviving.
The unity in the pain.
What I know now by heart
of being dead and then alive
brings me fully into the human race
and allows me more life than before.
Brought to each new awaking
is the fellowship in mere living,
the survival in being loved.
3 comments:
Beautiful. The picture really complemented the words. Well done!
I cant get over how this was worded...even death sounded beautiful..Stay warm my dear Diane, and enjoy the signs of spring..are they out showing themselves yet?
Just a beautiful wonderful worded piece...I say you're owed another snow day!! :)
Always,
Elizabeth
Thanks for stopping by today. This poem is so beautiful!
What a wonderful blog!
Lena
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