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What Happened to the Elder Faces?
~ Robin Morningstar Dick
The rising of the Morningstar as we feel the
touch of the light on our skin as the Buck
moon, shines. The sacred smoke rising. We
look and see the mist of vapors from the dew
drops, flying like wisps of smoke rising from
the sacred sage into the air, and know that
is all troubles going away.
Buck moon forgiving everything that has troubled and brought fear to our hearts through the night. The colors of the Harvest days are as such light blues, brown, golden, and orange. The clouds, the leaves, and the children play in the camp. The Elders tell the stories, sharing the times of the past.
There were happy faces, sad faces, faces from many lands. The places far and near, faces of many colors, blue, brown, red, and black. Faces that are rich; faces that are poor; faces that are everywhere; faces and more faces; up and down are seen many faces; The faces are from many lands they come to win and to lose; faces we see from yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Faces have vision to be with someone, somewhere or someplace other than the now. What do these faces have to say to others?
They have no time for me or for you; they have no time for words or feelings because they are so driven to see distraction. Where have they been and where are they going, and what distractions are they seeing?
Around and around distractions, the faces long to see colors and places, The faces, the eyes long to see content, joyful, and the eyes dream to see delighted and cheerful life. The faces with fear and doubt are sad; faces then and now.
What happened to the faces seen of the Elders working - seen working the fields, seen with dirt and sweat on their faces?
What happen to the faces that saw the fields harvest from their labors of hard labors? What happen to the faces that managed with their hearts and hands?
What happen to the faces that had seen the colors of the golden yellow and rich browns?
As the Elders shared the stories and the children gathered, their wild creatively tongues were unknown to outsiders.
The Elders told the stories of the colors of coal black, deep purple, soft yellows; golden orange and brown leaves, and artistic carvings; layers of dust that hinted at its grit authentic, and infatuations for me then and now, warm browns from the days of their past.
As the Morningstar rises we feel the touch of warmth on the skin as if it was purifying our soul. Feeling the warmth is erasing and forgiving everything that has troubled us through the night.
The rising of the Morningstar sparks the delightful dew drops to the flower pedals as they glisten in our eye as a wink from Creator himself.
The rising of the Morningstar is as a magical and captivating light and life; a new meaning that begins right now.
The rising of the Morningstar comes up higher for Earth Mother as she is rotating.
The rising of the Morningstar brings grace, light, and warmth with a promise that there is hope left.
The rising of the Morningstar as she leaves. The children can see the mist of vapors, and the drying moist drops are now are leaving too, along with sacred smoke fading away.
The children hold out our arms with palms up and know that life brings hope. The children take pleasure with those special moments to be one with all that they have been gifted from the rising of the Morningstar.
What happen to the Elder faces with the eye that was seen in days of old, the Elders working in the fields that were seen with dirt and sweat on the faces? What happen to the Elder faces that saw the fields harvested from their labors of their efforts? What happen to the faces that managed with their hearts and hands?
What happen to the Elder faces that saw the colors of the golden yellow and rich browns?