Monday, February 23, 2015

What the Rain Said to Me

[written 02/22/15]
Outside my window the rain is falling.
like an ancient voice to me it’s calling
I listen to its timeless word
I let there be silence so it can be heard
From childhood’s trauma that voice was lost
Society’s trying to grow up was what it cost
My knowledge -- we and the land are one
My reverence for oakland, grass, and sun
This coastal desert plain where I was born
Where living life and heart was torn
Where for love of money the hair is shorn
No longer child for fear of scorn
In this Los Angeles basin where men go mad
For the love of money and the latest fad
And no sense of place or home to be
And no more goal of freedom’s free
For my ancestors once here this night I mourn
In this land where I was born
From my roots that I was torn
And my feelings all so ragged worn
Trying to be who I should be
In this land I try to see
Who we are and are born to do
Is much more than shiny shoe
And hair-do and money coup
Is living life all through and through
From the roof,  rain talks to me
I listen hard for pictures-see
Respect the land, an
d sea, and tree
Realize for sure, freedom’s not free
But built of work, respectfully
It’s all there, to live and see
And the rain tells it all to me
Mushrooms, food, from dale to sea
Respect the elders, those who know
Never stop, always grow
Rain is gift, its fruits will show
Now to dreamtime, I will go.

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