A step into technology, a moment without truth, the brilliance of a time and age, wasted on the youth. A time a dream, apostles, they moved around a fire, and settled in painted sand, and bled under the stars. In ghost they moved onward, by whatever they did see, intuitive religion, a prayer held by their deeds. A haunted way of virtue, the things that we can’t see, the foot that moves without a print, needs no technology. Come down from that steep mesa, the one that paints the night, with tears of all the fallen warriors, they did not die from fright. And look into the desert, where tombs you cannot see, alone with your I pads or wireless, electricity outside belief.
There are feathers falling, laying like carpet in the split of my soul. Indigenous in it, a creature cries, oh what a sound. Pureness, no plastic needed, no wires to be ground., Now, now in this great spirit, crows flying, I would turn seeking, how wonderful to pray and disappear without a sound. Knowing that as you flew, your past met your future unbound. And like a ghost who staked no claim, to heaven, or hells entitlements to a spirit’s claim. Like a floating feather, I will rise all around you, my daily prayer, and forever proclamation understanding divination I’ll be there. No one can fight a ghost prayer.
It was a dream, at least my Grammy said so, her strawberry bonnet lying lazily on her head. Your glimmer is the Cherokee, but your Jewish so she said. It’s embedded, it’s really something you can’t shed. I turn to her could be I’m grown, I know I’m just like her, could be I’m not yet dead, and she says it’s a dance. And no one knows the reason in these modern times, with holograms, and Instagram’s, those seconds how they fly. But Ghost they last a lifetime, and then on by design, our prayers in needing, they float on till they find. A basic need in its detriment, a painted face, near earth, can’t forget. That Ghost prayers hold the answer, whisper alleluias after, no mission church can fill our answers, like the air under feathers, they float on. They float on.
“Feathers” – 05.15.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל