Sheila Williams ~ Singing Cloud

GIFT OF CREATOR!

The rains came, slashing, stinging, kiss of cold unthinking
pulling me below the blue of yesterday, gift from Father Sky.

The mud ran, oozing, sticky, silent, as death surrounds
covering the before, leaving no thought behind, gift of Mother Earth.

The screaming starts; blown through trees and hearts alike,
tearing out the roots of both evil and good; a gift from the Four Winds.

The sun rose, above a land destroyed, laying wasted, ignored
blood covered darkness hovering like fog; this was no gift of Creator.

Was it worth it, being better than your neighbor, being the “right” color
does your heart and spirit swell with joy, because you own more toys?

Do you look back, do you wonder where it started, where it ends
are you asking why, do you even care, is history the future?

Would you be surprised, to find yourself locked in cages
will it be right, if one day, your children are the servants?

Is there ever a winner, in the circle of human struggles
can you put yourself in the shoes of another, do you feel their hurt?

Will it matter what language you are speaking, when your belly is empty
scratching throat parched, legs weak and shaking, reaching for what?

Who, will you be, when the rains come with no abating
the mud covers all you love, the one screaming is your child?

Peace, inside, outside, soft, gentle, tender, warm as a blanket in winter
cuddled close in comfort, not seeing your color, THAT, is the gift of Creator!

©Copyright March 12, 2009 by Sheila Williams ~ Singing Cloud