Cerise Posted October 4, 2005 Share Posted October 4, 2005 Sister Skye Coyote visited my hospital bed, Quite unexpectedly. I didn’t think he would show He hates the medicine smell the white walls that are not sand the artificial breeze. He sits on the foot of the bed tail thumping impatiently. When the wide mouth opens I hear his voice inside my head ask a question—I won’t answer it today. Maybe I won’t answer at all The beads around my wrist click blue and green, wampum prayers wrapped around sun-browned skin. When Coyote speaks it is in laughter mirth spits from him like fire, sparkling and hot and smelling of stolen meat, of desert nights a thousand shadows deep. Flames lick the corners of my mind The coolness of rivers can’t find me. Why did you wander? What were you trying to find? I let Coyote embrace me, Feel his shadows slip over both of us and we are gone from my hospital bed back to dust stone sun back to the heat that not even my blue beads can cool… Raven searched for you. Why did you run? Bring me water from the rock And I will tell you everything. Ridiculous, you say? Very well. You don’t need to know then. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Amethyst Posted October 7, 2005 Share Posted October 7, 2005 Wonderful poem. Have you thought about getting this published? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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