Broken Spirit 3 comments

Monday, December 6th 2004, by Marissa A Spencer I used to meet up with people on the audiochat program called MPlayer. There were rooms with Native Americans. One evening and older gentleman and I were the only ones left in the room. He asked me if he could recite a poem to me. I said, sure, thinking he was just going to read it. I was delighted when he put some NA flute in the background. I was crying by the time he was done. It is a powerful poem, unfortunately the author is unknown. If any of those reading this know who wrote it, please let me know. Broken Spirit Is my spirit broken? No child. Can you still soar with the eagles high in the blue sky? Can you still tread on a blanket of new fallen snow? Can you hear the water murmuring in the mountain stream? Can you feel a quickening in your heart at the first rumble of Thunder? Do your eyes widen at a streak of bright lightning? Does your hand reach to feel the first drop of warm rain from a summer shower and Do you yearn to walk in the tender grass through the morning dew? On a moonlit night do you stand and look up and feel as though someone is looking back at you? Do you watch the sun until every last pink and purple cloud is completely gone into darkness? Do you wait for the sound of the lonesome Owl speaking in the night? And do you watch the small creatures of the earth with awe and look for them each time you go into the forest? And do you find joy in the laughter of a child? No Child Your spirit is not broken Only grow'n Unknown April, 99

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