Illusion
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
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and copyrighted to Susan Stumpf of:
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