Journal Meditation Poem
7-19-05
Dead dragonfly, looking sad and deformed
in front of me, as though it caught a glimpse of
hard, harsh, and confusing life, screamed, and
fumed into another realm...
On the soft, sandy shore of
Earth’s great Lake Superior
water catches it, oh lets let it rest
back in front of me on the microbial
rocks. It’s sad
in a world that is disastrous
in a place that is a seventh fire land
beneath a moon that has been polluted from afar.
I feel the soft, motherly pain
of black flies swirling,
chewing me to shreds,
but no, not really, just kissing me
with morsels of feeling pain.
And what is this place,
and who are these people,
and what does it mean
to belong to the savage people?
Some day, clouds may cover the sky
and the moon and sun may hide in shame,
but this beautiful dragonfly
has been washed at last
into positions of safe comfort dignity,
thank God.
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