All was Sacred

Antlers within the aspen,
a fire,
rocks and bone,
a hearth upon the earth

The winds howl,
churning the smoke scented fires,
of our memory

The truth of our blood,
spills over this land

On the mountains,
the plains,
the deserts

All was sacred
before
being called holy.

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Filed under america, outlaw poetry, poems, poetry

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