I’m Falling

I’m falling
deep within
the well of you- –
no darkness
down inside- –
your eyes my guide.
To sit with you- –
searching
for some light- –
hope
for a hopeless night.
I’m falling
      – -falling deep
within your eyes
My sighing- –
love songs whispered
– -echoes within echoes,
souls touching- –
          –souls
                   – -touching,
a stirring
of shadows- -in vivid
shades of love.
I’m falling deep
in love with you
within the well of you,
just there
behind your eyes,
just there
in the coming
of your light.

Copyright 2011, by Suzie Ashby. 

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Children of The Setting Sun

            “Sometimes dreams are wiser than waking.”
                                                              Black Elk, Oglala Sioux, 1863-1950.

 

It’s an ancestral rebirth through us- –
children of the setting sun. 
– -Time, a laughter in the night
carries teaching voices in dreams.
Years fly- -laden
with the salt of their tears
– -sweat- -pain- -love,
again- -again time laughs
at the lost, losing what is lost
and our struggle to bring it back.
We wont forget- -despite time,
cannot, will not forget
the telling and retelling of old ways,
ancestral teachings- -stance- -day by day
oral traditions say we can- -we will- –
we are the travelers- -the bringers
and carriers of knowledge.  Still
we hear those days- -ancestral
songs thrum in our hearts- -veins,
heads and hands.  We see
them dance.  Deep in our hearts
we see their shadows working,
playing- -hunting- -living life,
giving life, making life the best way
– -in our deep forest souls, we see.
Our blood is their pulse.
We carry on for them- -have to.
We- -the ancestral vessels
sway their way- -to their beat.
Our souls rise up- -dancing
fingers of mist rising- -rising
from winter’s river- -gently
comes the night mist rising
drifting in time with time- –
through time, all the while
laughing back at it.  Swiftly
running the length of our lives
we grasp their arrows of strength,
baskets of corn- -like robes
for comfort, and berries plump- –
ripe with knowledge
our life’s pledge to complete the circle
on and on- -endless spiral- -life.
We know their fate is not
to be discounted, unattended- –
lost in time, but to be forever
reborn with pride- -through us,
Children of the setting sun.
We carry them full circle- –
each of us, one by one
to a new beginning- –
a spiraling eternal light
silencing the laughter of time.

Copyright 2010, by Suzie Ashby.

 

            “What is gained from our inner nature is exact
               knowledge, which gives us a far-reaching outlook
               Over the earth.  The many powers of inner nature
               are hidden in everyone, and those are identified
               with Wakan-Tanka.”
                                                                Blue Thunder, Teton Sioux.

Celtic Warrior

Warrior looks in
through my eyes
– -child wanting candy.
Curiously,
peers inward
through a delicate green lace
perhaps seeking the place
my soul lingers- –
seeking his manifest destiny
or some quandary to debate.
Not seeing me for me
behind this face
– -still- -cold
braced and fevered
in this darkened place.

My castle walls
I embrace- -a blanket
of cerulean blue- -tattered.
– -Web like
gray fibers fray
along the edges,
from time’s time
with time folding backward
on itself.

Deep inside me he roams
empty chambers- -pulling
at flitting shadows
– -all the specters
                                 I am.
Oh, if he could set them free
they long for light
of dreams and fancy flight
– -silent butterflies.  Yet
– -still- -specters cling to me
lover’s whispers,
they sigh
and I sedate them
with a cerulean blue blanket
and the inward touch
of a Celtic Warrior’s hands.

Copyright 2010, by Suzie Ashby.

Come Softly

Come softly- –
hand in hand
into the night
when flowers rest
their blossoming faces
– -silently,
shadows become one with the cooling air- –
as will we
with the stars watching
over us.

Come softly with me
into the dawn,
when flowers awaken
to the frosted kiss of fall- –
knowing winter is inevitable.

Come softly
to my heart
where breath is but a faint sound
– -a gentle breeze
fluffing the down of a feather- –
where day and night mean nothing- –
Where time
is only a burden from yesterday,
and all todays
are what really matter.

Copyright 2010, by Suzie Ashby.

Night

Shards of sundown
splinter the tree line
with purple-blue twilight.
Trees- -black in the distance
arc against the shadows,
like an old man
bent against the wind.

Night- -inevitable
settles in around me,
a silent lover.

Copyright 2010, by Suzie Ashby.

Shadows of Flight

Shadows move
across the clouds
in circles,
patterns of them
bending
like saplings
in the wind,
wings of them
arc toward the sun.
– -Soaring,
a heaven
unknown to man.

Except of coarse,
those of us
                    who
move among the clouds,
free falling
                   – -but not.
We spread our wings
toward the wind
and
by some splintered fragment
of Spirit given knowledge
implanted seed-like
in our souls- –
experience the hawk,
raven, eagle, falcon
and their song of flight
burning deep within.

Copyright 2010, by Suzie Ashby.