Poetry Day

Soul Shadow

 

 

The shadow of the eagle swoops low overhead

wing tips tickle the cheek and tease

the drums beat rhythmically song of the people

is one of freedom

always there, the shadow of the eagle

shrieks of ancestors not to be forgotten

not to be left behind in rush of the future

we are flying

eagle feather falls to my feet silently

whispers of moccasins that ran swiftly

from the land of the man with the long knives

will always remain free

the eagle wings are spread as it soars

its shadow covers me in assurance

that I belong to him though my eyes are green

Grandmother watches me

the eagle shadow dives and rises

proud and free not to be corralled like a buffalo

and remains with me as a guide

to fly, my soul, be free

 

Kathy Tetlock

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