Monday, December 4, 2017

Save Our Sacred Spaces

Bears Ears

Whispers of juniper,

Sage scent of star filled nights;

Wind whispering softly of

Remembered rites on plazas

Dancing to the drum, song, prayers

That echo still.

Handholds furrowed into cliff sides

Painted in prehistoric colors.

Footsteps of the ancients follow

Lightly dusted trade roads

Between carefully placed stones of origins.

Bears Ears: Birthplace of living nations.

Toni Truesdale

Copyright 2017

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