As I was walking by
I noticed a leaf shaped like a feather
here and there
the breeze rustled them like dry paper
many colors yet they did not ask then
of what tree are we or angrily chase eachother away
the trees did not get handgrenades or fight over property
the leaves lay and change
I tried to take some like a dream and make them stay
but when I looked again they were grey
why is it that a leaf veins are like the desert sand then and like an old hand?
Or a face carved like desert sand? With lines traces of the life we led
or lies we were fed
It is up to us to believe and live
and if we choose to go on and forgive
to let go of the bitter roots that murder the soul
so that we can be renewed and healed and become whole
I would like to be a leaf in the wind
carrying my parasal with
tiny umbrella to weather the storm with
and plant upon the naked earth
sink inside and grow new birth and one day become a tree
with arms reaching to the sky
graced with leaves of many colors that catch the wind
as the leaves of Time fly