"Wicked"

"Wicked"
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George BS,RN
August 12th, 2006

Wicked old snow plow pusher--American Indian chief lost in this land of desert
Snow, idly you touch a glowing flame, immersed in the soil-a flower of youth
Delicate-pale and pearl white, immersed in the deep soil, where dark fertility
Maintains life (in and out), and a wheelbarrow stands alone, rusty paint
Peeling like the skin of an apple started with a sharp knife
"Can we go" and you hear that voice far away, coming closer, she runs
Falls to the ground, she is planted too, here today, anew she is

Empty of spirit, forgotten in time
A lone doll mesmerized in history that
HURTS like a whip cracking bare skin
Years of bleeding stop, she is bereft, dry...

Peace is total quiet, the night begins without the prairie dog, lone coyote
Smells of the dying fire, food eaten--time spent in reverence for the night,the day,
A season that lost season, change slowly,to speak to her of years (go by)
Without ONE word, the only "self" she knows is given away to a line of militia
The world to she is endless FEAR, a stray tear drop falls as her head tilts
To sleep, wrapped in warm wool, and the day will end this time, just once
He watched her pray quickly (afterthought) and hoped for more, next time...

The sun glows like yellow, bright, ember
The day hot, forbidding, the shade will beckon
"Follow me" and there is work beneath the leaves of
Tall oak trees, the hands can write a story of life...

Barefoot, legs tan, her image fits but for bright blonde hair, blue eyes
She is one accepted here, the women smile, she holds the newest born son
Close to her breast (she must be a mother), and they leave her sitting in
Happiness as they speak in their eyes of "love lost" and the demons of
Civilization plowing her down to a darker place, near death, fallow fields
They see her leaving, not today, a year perhaps, seeking the answers
Elusive waves, they murmur respect for her "lost spirit" flat and grey...

Stronger her legs become, walking miles in the woods
Touching a leaf the first time, a tremor rocks her heart
The lost word fills her, is it love, or hatred
How close they flow, so like a trickling stream

Winter comes, the blizzard keeps them close, fires burn, and they huddle
Together, (so close) they appear as one form, there is TRUST growing in
Her beaten heart, and the tiny seed of spirit born, she is ONE with
Nature, God, and these people who now are family--she has forgotten how
To find her way back to PAIN, and life has begun to burn like a strong
Candle, one whose flame cannot be stopped by wind, water, or the touch
A stranger makes--there is nothing but now, the forest is a nest...

The truck comes in the afternoon, he finds her
"Thank God you are here," and she turns to run faster
Then her legs could go, a mile down the road she stops
Breathless, and old tears fester, her cheeks ice red, cold

"I am not" and she knows she must leave, the heaven has ended, and he
Will force history into today, reminders of pain, suffering, and violence
She can go, or stay, can go, stay, go--the wind plummets and smacks her
Face he is seeking her with cold dark eyes hungrily, and they are gone
She is alone, and the lesson of a year in days fills her, she is whole
"I will come" and the drive is endless, the sounds of the city vulgar
The taste of white bread bitter, the apple tree is gone,the tower fell...

This time I did not make it
Next time I will listen
Soft voice - - fill me up -- with GOD
Please, now before I go...