by Matthew J. Barbour
The ground trembles beneath us. The ogres are restless.
In the sky above, the awanyu swarm among the gathering clouds. A storm is coming.
The kachina shout blessings from high atop the mesas, while coyote holds court in a stand of pinyon and juniper. All things that once were come again.
In the distance, kokopelli plays his flute. It is a time for rebirth.
The woodpecker strikes beak upon the tree. We march in rhythm with its beat.
Spear, club, and bow in hand, we are prepared. The God of Suffering shall be cast out.
Our independence is at hand.
Showing posts with label Matthew J. Barbour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Matthew J. Barbour. Show all posts
Sunday, January 12, 2014
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