For LInda

I remember your visits

when I was young

from the land of make believe

west coast

I idolized you so

pre-teen, to your teens

my older cousin

Linda.

Friendship did not find us

until the mid, more settled time

in our lives

 

You finishing trucking school

moved in, down south

and I, married to a long hair

came twice yearly, for nascar

and reminiscing

and

christmas cards

late night talks

from somewhere, on winding road

i do miss that

I’ll miss that

i miss you

 

I knew you would drift from this world

pass away

without me around

i would never have been ready

you knew that

And in caring for you

i knew your pain

and long you suffered

and now your spirit is free

Linda, my family

my friend

through these tears

I’ll yet you go

until our spirits are togeher

someday

again…

 

cc Elyse Bontager

 

~ For my dear friend, and cousin, who passed away after a long illness, Monday, December 4, 2017 ~

 

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Written In Helix

Knowledge of purpose

Calling to Spirit

Alights again

my soul,

reawakening…

Its ancient indigenous nature-

helix woven,

ever westward striving

toward…

a feeling…?

Home.

 

In the still peace of

Being

winds stirring, I can hear…

Her,

Mother of us all…

calling loudly,

reviving,

releasing…

Unbound now,

Celtic-Cherokee

warrioress arise…

To Stand.

for This-

I am.

 

By: Elyse Bontrager

 

#StandingWithStandingRock

#NoDAPL

#TheWorldIsWatching

 

 

I know what others think, and say…

I know the petty, mocking people-

they parade,

of life past..

They ALL haunt me nomore.

My unknown salvation-

they

wore whispers on lips.

for somebody’s mistake.

This always, under mask,

underneath…nothing more.

forge

So many years, wasted of tears,

over what some Bitch, boy, or a few had to say.

They formed someone other,

abrasion does grid

relentlessly.

The sharp, honed strength ..

refined through fire, one could say.

And on tarnished angel wings,

fading sun,

shines a moment more.

Look! rust, resembles good dust,

perhaps..

in the waning light.

Night Falls.

Hard

Silence.

Winters cauldron will,

stir once more,

ever refining the brew.

Pouring in reflections of one,

angel.

Finally free.

e.a.b.

Dedicated to my dear Sister, Trena Jane Douglas Bauer,

born November 19, 1965, leaving us all far too soon on August 23, 2016.