WHISPERS

My little girl, my love,
as I caress your soft and curly hair,
cradle your head on my bosom soft,
God forbid, why do I recall
ancient memories from lives of other times?
Memories of how I had to fight,
keep a vigilant eye
lest the hunters, the wolves,
coyotes lurking in the dark,
come to pounce upon
unsuspecting trusting hearts--
the memories I try to dust off from my wings,
when I lay in a dungeon
for the crime of using my hearts and wings.
That's not for real now, I know;
you and I inhabit a different world,
with our third eye lightened we must see
and draw the 'ring-pass-not'
for the strangers who try to invade
our sanctuaries and they have
gall and venom which they spit
when ruthless instinct drives them to hunt and kill.
We are no angels come down from the heaven
to save this world, we are little girls who are left
to their own devices in times of trouble
when no help is there at hand
save our wits and human skills
to defend our being and dig our roots
deep into the earth where we are born.

And I say all this silently
so as not to make you hear
the thoughts of fear which make me shiver,
I want to pass on only the strength
which draws me to you and weaves a shield
and give you an armor that will carry you through
without ever having to use.
May your paths be full of love;
the love that will transform coyotes in men
who have their hearts and heads in the proper place.