A Poem by Sandy Lulay


Beneath the granite earth the old Indian chants.
His voice can be heard in the winds
Serenading the Catskills any day or night.

My grandmother called the wind voices.

Alive in the whisper of trees dancing in the sunlight,
Alive in the breath of an Iroquois breeze.

Is said to be the magic of the earth turning
In spite of man's afflicted need
To break the light of atoms in war.

Of men
Unable to hear a green mind speak.

I lost my heart to Orenda the night I saw a deer,
Blinded by poachers' lights, murdered for money.
Its spirit rose from the shape of its death

And spoke to me.

"Power is not what you think!"

If you decide to walk the Catskills
In the morning mist, you too may hear
The collected thought of Iroquois souls never deceived

By the blood of politics or the plagues of greed.


       Sandy Lulay, originally from Woodstock, New York, is a resident of Stuart, Florida. Lulay is an "Original Woodstock Girl" who has been writing poetry since age ten. Many of her poems have been published both in Woodstock and Stuart's Sleeping Bear Review. Sandy is a Swans' kind of girl, our in-house poet.

         Please, DO NOT steal, scavenge or repost this work without the expressed written authorization of Swans, which will seek permission from the author. This material is copyrighted, © Sandy Lulay 2002. All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.


This Week's Internal Links

Shepherding Us Into History's Charnel House - by Stephen Gowans

The Time The Great Ogre Hacked And Spit - by Milo Clark

Peekaboo - by Michael Stowell

America Through The Looking Glass - by David McGowan

A Verbal Analogy - Mind : Body :: Illusion : Reality - by Philip Greenspan

The Untouchable Israelis - by Deck Deckert

An Open Letter To Jewish Americans - by Assaf Oron

What Price Middle East Peace? - by Dr. Alfred M. Lilienthal

The Immigrant Nation (Part I): Mother Of Exiles - by Alma Hromic

Orenda - Poem by Sandy Lulay

You're Dead Mister. Dead. - by Dalton Trumbo (Book Excerpt)


Sandy Lulay on Swans

Poems and Essays published in 2002 | 2001


Published April 8, 2002
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