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.
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