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Searching the emptiness inside
daylight found her
locked in a stillness
by the pond's mystical edge
all wonder, her indian tears frozen

  "I see him" she whispered to an Eagle
loud enough for the pain
etched in the Soul of the hills
   to hear and weep again

and the Eagle spoke nothing
in that knowing silence
his eyes following her

to the meadow beyond
where she refused to see
the body of her wolf laying dead quiet
   in the white man's bleeding grass . . .

so in her protective illusion, her white wolf ran still
calling for her to follow him beyond
life's land of shattered, broken dreams

within her hands a rainbow intertwined her fingertips
    it was the spirit of her wolf
   tracing the contours of her grief
leaving spectrums of hope wide and unveiled

she saw not the silence of his death
but the grandeur lament of his wealthy life
    the one they shared
before a bullet pierced his heart

he had left her side merely to chase a butterfly
to dimensions unknown
    as wolves will often do

searching the emptiness inside
darkness found her
locked in a stillness

clutching a butterfly gently in the palm of her hand
knowing somehow it was a sign
    an illusion turned into a gift left by a wolf for her
beside the pond's mystical edge

All graphics, poetry, and background created by
and copyrighted to Susan Stumpf of:

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