Sarasota Green
  • Poetry
  • About
  • Contact

Pleiades Dream

6/13/2022

0 Comments

 

I went into the amethyst
and asked the Great Spirit 
to help me 
understand 

the wound in my solar plexus. 

Was it a cut cord? Or something 
to which I was tethered. 

I had made a man 
my god again. 

I asked the citrine 

and the guide who calls me 
moon child said quietly, 

I must do a ceremony 
for the women. 
     The sisters and myself 
before everyone else 
each morning. 

Her name is Gray Smoke. 
She is older than my 
grandmother. 

There are things I am not. 
I am not the keeper of the plants 
you might see from this 
money tree. 

I could be the keeper of the stones. 

​My brother's lesson 
is green. 

That was enough, she said, 
for now. Then I saw reds, 
and an explosion of a soft sky 
moving clouds. 
0 Comments

Your comment will be posted after it is approved.


Leave a Reply.

    Author

    Sarasota Green is a writer, poet, and traveler. She grew up fascinated by the way the ocean touches the sky and the sand. She currently travels around the Americas studying the way humans love.

    Archives

    June 2022
    January 2022
    March 2018
    June 2017
    December 2016
    July 2016
    April 2016
    March 2012
    January 2010
    November 2009
    October 2009
    March 2008

    Categories

    All

    RSS Feed

Copyright  2022 Sarasota Green. All rights reserved.