poem

I.
i awake to
sounds
foreign to me.
are they also
forgein
to the natives?
a dog
talks to his echoe,
his voice walks
the mountains
now shrouded in
clouds,
the tops
are
as mysterious to me
as i am to myself
here - in this land.

II.
i see myself
in their
eyes,
large
dark, mysterious.
they watch me
and, in turn,
i begin to watch
myself.
a looking glass?
a gift?
they call me
friend -
i hold them,
touch their long,
black
braids -
i call them precious.

III.
mother is watching,
we
tread upon her,
they walk beside her.
they whisper to
her
and allow a generation to
pass
for a response.
they touch
her
with patience,
they whisper -
to her.

IV.
a circular measurement -
duality.
i know this not -
but understand.
her words enter me,
i no longer
translate -
rather accept.

V.
they talk of
our
technology
and
our logic
and i realize that we
have
left out part of the equation...

VI.
they have no word
for
"bad"
-
just time
that isnt ideal.
i want to forget
the idea
of "bad"
and, like them,
see connections,
see possibilities.
i wish to bid life entrance,
like air
within my lungs!
they
will teach me,
they
will show me!