Thursday, May 30

Prompt Tuesday-Image Six, françoise MICHEL

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françoise MICHEL

Event Entries Yesterday 6:47 AM

L' âme indienne

Fille de la Terre et du vent
Je suis l'incarnation du vivant.
Mon peuple a toujours respecté
La nature dont il était entouré :
En osmose avec son environnement
Ayant compris de la vie, le fonctionnement.

Mais, nous dérangions certains intérêts.
Gardant les terres vierges et incultes
Notre vision de l'existence était une insulte
Pour " l'humain' en quête de son progrès.
Qu'il soit fier de sa réussite triomphale
Avec notre planète entière mise à mal !

Lorsqu'à la vérité vos yeux  s'ouvriront
Vous me verrez debout à l'horizon.
Je suis accompagnée de tous ceux
Qui vivent de leur espèce, la disparition
Et attendent, patiemment, le temps heureux
D'une prise de conscience de toutes les nations.


English Version:

The Indian Soul

Daughter of Earth and wind
I am the embodiment of living.
My people have always respected
Nature which surrounded him :
In harmony with its environment
Having understood the life operation.

But we disturbed some interests.
Keeping the pristine wilderness,
Our vision of existence was an insult
For the "human" in search of his progress.
He is proud of his triumphal success
With our whole planet devastated !

When, the truth will open your eyes
You see me standing on the horizon.
I'm here with all the others
Living of their species, the disappearance
And wait, patiently, the happy coming times
On the one growing awareness of all nations.

I would like to add it’s not easy to write in a language that one doesn’t speak. Therefore when reading this the original language will express this person the best. ♦Website’s owner.

Prompt Tuesday-Image Six, Letitia Minnick

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Letitia Minnick

Event Entries  3:33 AM

Lungwamen (Lenape: "To Dream")

I watched the crowded fog creep
down the Blue Mountains
in a billowing rush
of silence.

As I stood scanning the oncoming oblivion,
a cross-eyed crow stared at me
from both sides of the veil.
Cawing, he climbed into the mist--
his black wings dissolving
into white nothingness.

As I waited,
walking trails wound back
to a time without train tracks,
without hollowed out houses
and miles of broken asphalt--
where derelict steel stacks
were something as yet to be imagined.

A mountain hawk pierced
the unseen stillness with its cry
and turned my attention
to the gushing Lehigh. Here,
I could sense an ancient wolf
padding along side the sacred spirit
surveying a modern world
arrogantly disconnected
yet ignorantly dependent.

Prompt Tuesday-Image Six, Pensador Louco

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Pensador Louco

Event Entries May 28, 2013

A Fairy Tale

There was a very special old man who’s stories were as ancient as the very morning. A totem of wise words to which we prayed for counseling and protection. He was an elder and I never got his name right.

To me he was simply an old coot. A piece of old junk. Disposable. I was just a little girl when I first met him. He had made up stories about his love of horses and clear water rivers. Spirits and magic warriors. It was all he could think of. I had no interest in him at all but still he was there.

The totem.

The history of his own life was ludicrous. Stupid folklore. There was no way anyone believe that he had befriended a bat. It was silly folklore told to children to keep them in line. Life lessons. Spooky stories. He told the fable of the bat to us many times.

As the story goes he was the first. Back when the world was plain and no man had to defend more than his home and family. What a time to be alive. Wake up! Stop daydreaming.

Anyway, the old man was hunting at night when he saw the tiny bat. The bat was laying on the ground and had been severely injured. The bat was barely alive but was still breathing.

He stooped to look at he bat on the ground. He was a worthless animal after all, only good for eating bugs. He couldn’t be eaten and with that in mind he prepared to walk away. He was turning to leave the agonizing bat to suffer his fate when he heard something. The bat begin to speak to him! With a voice so soft and high it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. He couldn’t believe his eyes and ears. What was happening?

The bat asked for help and promised in return to tell him all of his secrets. He claimed he had the secret of life.

When I was first heard this story I thought how could he fool everyone for so long? He was just a lazy old man. I can either trust him or a talking bat! I tried to leave, but somehow the whole thing was too seductive to abandon. I reluctantly sat down to listen.

He started; “In the old days when our kind was still ruling the entire country a little bat held all the secret stories of the world. Hold on! Don’t make that face. I know what it sounds like but you will see the wisdom in it.” He continued his story telling them that the spider had been saved from certain death when her nest was taken down by the strong wind. She had fallen to the ground in front of a mob of rabid red ants. The bat went into action and grabbed the torn remains of her web pulling her up. Up through the trees and branches up into a beautiful incomparable night. I took her very high up. She shook the dust from her legs and looked at me. Eight deep unblinking eyes looking into mine.

When my ancestor was starting to doubt his own sanity, the tiny bat continued his story.

“You gave me back my life,” the spider said. It was a very old spider that had no family left. She was covered with wrinkles and smelled of dusty webs. “I’m very thankful that you helped me,” she told the bat. “I was to be eaten alive and trust me it hurts because I’ve been doing it to others my entire life”, she paused.

“What is it?” asked the little bat. “A gift for both of us,” she answered going on, “You see I’m very old. So old in fact that I’m not ashamed to say it wasn’t the wind who knocked me down from the branches. You know what I mean.” She suddenly looked sad and tired. “I know I don’t have much time left and believe me when I say I’d prefer to spend it right here in a high tree with a friend than in the mouths of vengeful ants. So here’s your gift,” and she proceeded to tell him everything.

“When I was young, I could never sleep. The days would run into nights. I couldn’t rest for a cotton picking second. I had to do something about it so I decided to walk. Unlike the other spiders who stay put their entire lives I travelled though many lands learning a little more as each century passed me by.” The bat was surprised he had never heard such claims. Using knowledge as a way to prolong life was a queer idea at that. The spider continued, “I have the full knowledge of every story, every legend or spoken word  in this forsaken world. Too much for a little spider like me to keep inside. Too important to lose when I die soon. So I will pass it onto you to carry on.”

And she did. She nested herself near the bat’s ear and started to tell him all. She had a lot to tell. The rise and fall of kingdoms, legends of love, riches and wars. The bat thought it was too much, but there was more. While telling what she said was the very last story she died. The bat could not tell if she had really finished but she had imparted her knowledge to him and now he had knew. If what she said was true he had stories to keep him alive for many lifetimes. Or until he was too tired to live.


Unlike other’s before me I knew what to do with the knowledge and used it wisely. And here I am today a grown woman. Living in the debris of our world. Now disease is the new reaper and the Earth is ravaged. Greed is the new religion. Now the tribes make their tents of concrete blocks on barren land and nature is made up of bullets and rape. It is the new law. Or what the planet can still stand of us before dying too.

I think of the old man often. As an elder he was happy to tell us his tales although I had no intention of listening to them. At first anyway. The old man’s totem had finally got passed on.

Now I have brother wolf by my side and sister eagle on my shoulder. They watch over me as I use the knowledge of the universe as I please. Forgive me, but I am not a spider or a bat. I am not an old man and I have plans.  I am a very motivated woman with a new world to raise. A world of plants and animals. A new Eden without people to ruin it. People were the problem in the first place.

The moon is high. A new hunting season has begun. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you all about it later.