Feel them as they are carried by the wind
Hear the lonely sounds of their torment and pain
Their voices reach out in the dark silence of the night
Reaching out to me……….
riding the wind
They were torn from their homes and loved ones
Fighting for other’s freedom and peace
Their cries carried in the dark of night….
“Here we are……
do you not feel our presence?
I hear them….voices like whispers carried on the night winds
Waiting…..waiting to show us where their true spirits lies….
I must reach into the past…touching these warrior spirits
For they seek to be reunited with their kindred blood
I feel their sorrow and pain,
hear their cries in the night
Where once they knew life, now lonely and emptiness
They cry out, but now only a few hear and answer
Answer the whispers carried on the night winds
They call to us..
as voices whispering in the wind
To keep their memories alive..to bring them home
We must all listen..for upon us they rest their hopes
Now is the time for us who knew them to bring them home
They gave their best,
their all for their country’s call
We must bring them home and give them rest
We must listen..
listen to their whispers in the wind
And bring them home,
home to our hearts once again!
Something walks in the dark of night,
can not grasp the nameless
Spirit whispers in ears, telling they can bring beyond all torment
Tell of serene waters which build a delicate and graceful palace
To lie down and fly with them,
into an eternal emptiness
To say farewell to the torment and pain,
come to the peacefulness
Let the stillness from soul over tearful eyes, not to scream again
Let tranquility soothe all memories,
save you from sufferings
To close the soul,
let the emptiness come over the body
With tearful soul, fight, fight the shadows of the night
The night breeze blow,
blow a smell of Mother Earth’s life
With mate’s real love, embrace it into enthrallment
Forget the whispers in dark,
deception is their plan
Live life as a whole spirit once again.
I wrote the below poem for Sgt Raymond McCulloch, a Native American, a Cherokee and a combat Marine Veteran of Vietnam. Raymond was a long lost friend who was separated from his friends and family, living alone in Baltimore MD.
He was found with a bottle, a gun and a copy of "Apocalypse Now" playing on his VCR. The horrors of Vietnam and real life had finally gotten to Raymond and he took his own life. You won't see his name on the "Wall", but he did his part and paid the supreme price.
I don't know the date,
but I still feel the guilt for not being there for him.
Praying for all brave young individuals, those who died
Now in memory, in heart, in minds of those who care
Silently he whispers his wisest words, for only they to hear
And for some around him,
to them it seemed absurd
And if they had listened they would have heard
How now his heart beat was at a still.
If they had watched they would have seen
That there were Angels siting on his shoulders
He says a word, he’s not scared of death
His bravery and his heart no longer at a test
Another breath he breathes until
He takes his final breath and lays forever still.
And now they all know that the tears he cried
Were also for him, he who fought by their side
For the ones who died, the ones he tried to save
The others now know, he died each time he slept
For he saw their torment and felt their pain
He now is at peace
In the home of the brave.
In a room in a city, surrounded by concrete, bricks and steel with only a bottle for a friend and the sights and sounds of a war long gone by numbing his brain, a Cherokee brother decided, that the mystery of the next world was easier to bear, then the reality of this world.
One less pipe carrier, one less vision fulfilled, one less brother on the journey, an empty place in the circle. Without benefit of pipes, drums, songs, tobacco ties, colored cloth or eagle feathers. A Cherokee brother began a long journey with a bullet.
Grandfather, Great Mystery, forgive him his mistakes, forgive us all our apathy. Gather close his tortured spirit and lead him home.
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