This is a beautiful portrayal of Native American culture. I love the part where she bestowed wisdom to him.

Most people don’t know the ugly history of the US. They do not know of the ‘Trail of Tears’ and the forced march suffered by Native American peoples. And some think it was only the Cherokee on this ‘trail’. It included the Cree, Seminole, and Miccosukee, and other Tribes. Many thousands died along the way. This horror is part of what they want to erase from the history books.

My ancestors (a long ago Grandmother on my father’s side), were slaughtered by the Dutch. She was Lenape.

Thank you Mary, for sharing, it means a lot to me.

I love Native America, Native America tales, wisdom, music and wolves, their howls and cries. and like expected of their music, the one you’ve shared holds sadness within its layers. I amdire your poem for the simplicity yet the depth it has, normally longer poems don’t keep me along the reading, but here it’s different, I read it all with no pressure, it feels like home, the Native America home… the burnt sage caught me because it’s in my culture too.
the sheer wisdom and magnificence of the final two verses are for real something else. True loves comes when You find your own whole self, when You win your spiritual test and yes finds the home in You (how I love this phrase!) You don’t need someone to complete You, You want someone to share it with You. yet, even that the broken hearted wolf knows this truth, he also knows that sometimes You must feel it all to be able to let it go or pass to the new stage. a truly brilliant piece my friend ✨

That’s a beautiful expression of hope and yearning! The central metaphor of the garden, particularly the image of “putting my hands in your dark soil,” really captures a deep desire for creation and connection, even when starting “late in life.”

AWWW Valuptas, your are making me blush. I was going to go food shopping this morning but now I can’t, my face is too red. What will the neighbors think?? They will ask questions and then laugh. At some point, my face will return to normal, but until then, THANK YOU so much for being “pulled in”. OMG, I’m still blushing…. HELP!!! ;0)

The imagery of “lips spit fire, yet taste like Chardonnay” is such a vivid paradox, and the way you connect her kiss to both a visual “kaleidoscope of colors” and the sound of “psithurism” is beautiful. It makes the experience truly multi-sensory. Beautifully penned.

Hi Ms Valuptas, I would not want your royal “whispering” (unholy or otherwise), sitting in a jail cell. How else would I receive such beautiful comments?

For most of the poetry I write, I add music. I think it adds to the feel and meaning of the poem. Sade’s song “Kiss of Life” was a really good fit for this poem. And yes, I am “foxy”… er… I mean… damn, did I say that out loud? Actually, more “wolfy” than “foxy”. But you know, wolfs can be sly too. ;0)

Anyway, sorry about the couch. THANK YOU for the comment, the visit, and for making my poem feel special!

Emma, this is a well narrated story of the history of your writer’s life where college took you. This glimpse into the past was quite stimulating to read. I loved how the life events unfolded and reading this story that felt like an entry for a memoir.

John

Many thanks, you found the thread running through time and kindly accepted the truth of my words. There is a future to come but with pauses for self reflection. More than that, I don’t know yet! Patience or adventure!?

I just found this… Oh! You write, such indigo between lines.

weirdly, this reminds me of someone that i used to love, from afar.