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my great spirit does not live
in a book he could not live there it is too small of a place and those words are others' words which do describe their experience but it is not mine my great spirit lives everywhere in the colors of the earth and the sky in the calls of birds and the voices of the wind in the stones I collected as a child and put in my pockets my great spirit does not hate or discriminate he observes, counsels, hears and knows he sees all but without eyes and notices how I talk from my insides when I need to be heard by someone wise one who doesn't have wisdom measured in mere years but in limitless experience I need no words to feel a shift where my heart is I often see what others might not notice as a sign he shows up even when I haven't asked and I realize I wasn't as alone with my cries he is in my legs as I walk and dance he is in my hands as I paint and write he is in the sun he is in the blanket of the stars he is in the cat or dog come to greet me and in the child who smiles and stares he is in the mountains he is in the cooling water and in the rain as it touches me everywhere thank you Great Spirit. LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM WRITTEN 2/13/2020 11:48 AM PST TIME/DATE STAMPED AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER/POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED SITE TITLE--MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD AND THANK YOU ONCE MORE GREAT SPIRIT. Vote for this poem |
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