The scent of woodsmoke clings to me
Like a spirit not ready to let go of this world
Not from fear but out of love
Holding on to memories that reverberate
To the beat of the round drum
And the stamp of bare feet on a dirt floor
In a place that echoes the past into the present
Where dances are sacramental offerings
Shared with ghosts who linger in the dust
Raised by each footfall
Even though we applaud we know this isn’t a performance
But a moment to let spirits intermingle
Bathed in smoke that permeates our souls
Dusted with earth that has witnessed degradation and despair
Seen attempts at genocide collide with patient persistence
Until old songs are given new voice
And old voices are heard with new understanding
To the beat of ancestral hearts witnessing truth
In the flicker of flames that never died out
That burn on into the tomorrow of today
David Trudel © 2013
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
Song From The Big House
The scent of woodsmoke clings to me
Like a spirit not ready to let go of this world
Not from fear but out of love
Holding on to memories that reverberate
To the beat of the round drum
And the stamp of bare feet on a dirt floor
In a place that echoes the past into the present
Where dances are sacramental offerings
Shared with ghosts who linger in the dust
Raised by each footfall
Even though we applaud we know this isn’t a performance
But a moment to let spirits intermingle
Bathed in smoke that permeates our souls
Dusted with earth that has witnessed degradation and despair
Seen attempts at genocide collide with patient persistence
Until old songs are given new voice
And old voices are heard with new understanding
To the beat of ancestral hearts witnessing truth
In the flicker of flames that never died out
That burn on into the tomorrow of today
David Trudel © 2013
Share this:
Like this:
Related
Leave a comment
Filed under Poetry
Tagged as aboriginal, big house, blank verse, coast salish, community, creative writing, creativity, cultural traditions, drumming, equality, Esqumalt First Nation, first nations, free verse, genocide, metaphor, poetry, round dance, social activism, social commentary, truth