The Warrior
I didn't recognize you my friend
The gentleness had given way to the warrior
From the quiet power of the owl to the fierceness of a hawk
Your eyes glared with an intolerance
The paint of war marred your face
I didn't see you in that moment
Yet you were there in that moment
Only a temporary space of blindness
Hiding the beauty of your soul behind the mask
Your pain was there in your experience
In our lives and those before us throughout time
In your eyes, it was always there
I feared the pain and the anger
Until I saw that it was you
Then I saw that it was me
I felt my finger touch your face
To wipe the paint mixed with the tear
And through it all the owl watches in patient silence
By Diane LeVan (c) 8-31-96
Artwork and poem submitted by
Shoshone Lady
Thanks *S*
looking down the edge of a knife
the beholder staring at a picture of his life
long and grim as it might seem
with one gauging scream
within the blink of your eyes
all left and said is goodbye.....
Original poem by the "stranger"..
Thanks alot! *S*
If you have an original poem or something
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