Friday, June 17, 2016

Hallowed Ground

                                Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit,
                                  as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,
                                          world without end.



                                       The effigy mounds

                                       seem to sidle
                                       the breeze bristling their fur
                                       of grass and ferns 
                                       as if breathing still beneath eighteen-thousand revolutions
                                       of the moon, the long, unwinding gauze of stars,

                                       still rising out of the mountain's side:
                                       great, winged birds in flight--
                                       two-hundred foot wing spans shimmering a memory of soaring--
                                       a belly of bundled bones
                                       once bright with life;

                                       bears lining down the spine of earth
                                       beneath the weaving birds and lush leaves' nameless songs--
                                       carrying the hooped and countless dead within
                                       through the thick peace, at last,
                                       on their way to the fleeting Mississippi below--
                                       
                                       on their way through eternity.









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