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Zettel Film Reviews » Never Gone – Poem: for indians places are sacred – not time

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Never Gone – Poem: for indians places are sacred – not time

indian country

indian country

Native American – Indian – spiritual beliefs unlike say the Abrahamic religions, are spatial not temporal; communitarian not individualistic. This does not try to be an ‘Indian’ poem – that would be silly. But it does try to express a deep empathy towards the spirit of these ideas and the culture that struggles in the face of ignorance and injustice to live by them and keep them alive. The recorded history of our, European, contact with these peoples is a lie and its truth shameful.

Never Gone

Know this above all
I am never gone
I am in the breeze
sighing through the trees
I am in the trees
and the trees are me

I am in the sun
drawing growth from earth
in the roots of corn
and I am in
the life reborn
in ripening gold

I am in the whisper
of urgent summer rain
slaking thirsty earth
propagating life
in the embracing sun
I am in re-birth

I am in the sea
shimmering with light
brooding moody bright
from deep-stirred swell
to snarling waves its turbulence
contains a part of me

I am in the ancient stars we see
whence we all once came
and as the sightless moon
lifts and lights the tide to shore
ebbing night to flooding day
there too I will be

I am not in the clocks
not hours or days or years
for I am not in time
with its sequential fears
I am in your heart
not in your ideas

I am ever in this place
in this sacred space
I am not past or gone or lost
not of then or now or soon
I am always here
in sun and sea and moon

I am not in heaven
nor any place but here
for how could I desert
all that I hold dear
your eyes are now my eyes
your ears hear my sounds

When you sense the beauty
the spirit of the world
then I return to you
in your blood in your breath
in your unbroken heartbeat
There I live anew

I am in the great mystery
beckoning to truth
seeking out a way
when you must follow me
around life’s unbroken ring
Spring birth, Summer life
Autumn’s solemn solace
Winter’s welcome rest
until the urgent call
of yet another spring

(Zettel – April 2008)

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