|
Archive Issue |
|
|
Tribal Fires Journal |
I, Forget For just a little while, I forget. I did not include you in my life. Somehow, other things got to be to important and details were of much more concern. When did it occur to me that I began to miss you? I certainly don't know. I only know that a hole grew where you once were in my heart and a small ache is now a tremendous pain. It wrenches and tears at my mortal soul. You were once the very center of my world. I cried for you and you were there for me. I was helpless and needed your guidance and I found that your wisdom was exactly what I required at the time. You have never ceased to be an important aspect of myself. From your ability to create life, I came. What I have made of myself, I learned from you. All my strengths I saw in you and I learned to overcome my weaknesses because you did the same. When I was an adolescent I was unsure of my way in this world. I grew to resent you and that I never in my life be like you. How childish and immature those thoughts and feelings were. How appropriate for that age. I didn't see past my own anger. I didn't see the hurt look in your eyes. I am so much like you. Now, when I look in the mirror you are looking back at me. In the past pace of these days. I, forget. *** Written by Anikeyashishikwe
|
Quiet and Still This is how I imagine it would be after you have gone. Quiet and Still. Each morning, I pull myself out of bed. Wait and watch the morning light move across the room still laced with your memory. I move among the living. Rattle the breakfast dishes around. While the sun moves me farther away from where I left my heart. I move all your medications that kept you with me into the box. I tuck away all the machines that kept you with me into the closet. I quietly move about this big house that kept you with me. Yes, this is how I imagine it would be after you are gone. Lonely and still. While dinner passes quietly the sun lowers into the horizon. I look up at the clock, still caught in our routine. Your pills, your breathing treatment. Your struggle ends. My struggle begins. Night falls around me. I move to sleep and dream about you. While the moon rises Casting delicate light into your room Quiet and still. *** Written by Cherylin Z. Martin-Wade |
Archives Tribal Fires Journal Volume 1 Issue 1 Volume 1 Issue 2 Volume 1 Issue 3 Volume 1 Issue 4
Tribal Fires Journal Tribal Fires Journal Volume 3 Issue 2- Missing Volume 3 Issue 3- Missing Volume 3 Issue 4- Missing Tribal Fires Journal Volume 4 Issue 2 Volume 4 Issue 3 - Missing Volume 4 Issue 4 Tribal Fires Journal Volume 5 Issue 3 Volume 5 Issue 4 Tribal Fires Journal Tribal Fires Journal |
Tribal Fires Journal is currently open for submission of poetry, essay's and short stories for the coming Fall issue.
Please send copies of writings to:
Tribal Fires Journal | 4807 Onigum Marina Drive NW | Walker, MN 56484
Also include your tribal affiliation, and writer's profile.
Website designed & maintained
by CZ Martin Art & Design
Updated: November 22, 2005
