The Hole Where I Lay

I stretch out and try to rest in my cold hole in the sand

It is about two foot wide, seven foot long and made for one man

Blowing sand above where I lay is thick enough to blot the stars

A rag I found covers my face and I wonder if this is like other wars

Earlier as we gathered we held hands and stood for evening prayer

I thought about a certain night as I lay and tried to rest in my cold lair

Suddenly explosions and rifle fire that was so loud it had to be near

I rose up to have a look while trying to swallow and control my fear

I slowly looked over the edge of my hole and tried to see

But the blowing sand was all I heard and I realized it was only me

I lay once again now sure that the loud sounds came from my head

Month after month, scene after scene make terrible thoughts instead

This lair I lay in and try to sleep was dug by another while in this desert land

I try to remember the last time I slept but it is hard to think with howling sand

I came to this terrible place hoping to help make s difference, try to help out

Now after seeing all that’s taking place I do not know what it’s really all about

I remember how my mother cried when I told her of the place where I would go

She talked of her brother who she lost in the jungle but I didn’t want to know

I wonder if I will ever leave this land, this place that will never change

I would like to be back home, the land of my ancestors, a land of open range

Gather your loves ones for prayer tonight, think of all of us and what we have seen

Asked Your God to help us go home soon, for most of us are just over nineteen

Achoba:  Thinking of a friend who lost a grandson in Iraq

January 09, 2009

As day begins to ebb I seek a place of solitude to wait the coming of night

 I walked these ancestral lands many times before to seek shade from the light

Though day brings wonderment, enrichment and beauty of all living things

 It is the night that will nourish the wonder of day in the peace that it brings

 My favorite place to wait for the comfort of dark is under a wild Mimosa tree

 There is brook that runs nearby where I lay and the ripples sing to me

There is the pungent smell of Wisteria growing wild through the branches above

 The aroma brings memories of my youthful days when my thoughts turned to love

The grass is warm beneath my head as the light fades and the sun falls below the land

 The light diminishes through the branches, as night is released from God’s hand

 I move towards the sound of the brook and once there I sit on the cooling ground

 With legs crossed in the Lotus Way I look up towards the sky and wait for familiar sound

Moments pass then it begins, first crickets, frogs, a coyote or two, then a nighthawk I hear

 Once again I am captured by the night and ripples of the brook are silent, others fill my ear

Tuscumasomi, the great Wood Owl begin to hoot softly to let his presence be known

 Then his hooting calls become faster as he flies silently through the sky, traveling alone

The sound is haunting to me and I begin to Mind Soar with thoughts of years gone by

 I put away those thoughts to seek another path and with Tuscumasomi, I begin to fly

Full dark was upon the land and as we soared through the night sky I begin to see

 God pushed away day to let creatures of the dark enjoy what he does for you and me

Now night begins to wan and we with silent flight, fly towards the brook where we began

 My old legs have become numb as I stand to look at the day that sprung from God’s hand

To see the wonderment you must do as I, find Tuscumasomi and fly through the dark sky

 This is a journey all can do, just believe in the night and you will never wonder or ask why

Night can push away the light for all to see

 It shows what our Father above does for you and me

Achoba: on this night of Jan. 7, 2009

From thoughts of the Journey

                             Heroes of the Night

Have you ever looked at a shooting star, far up in a cold, night sky?

Did you see the glowing tail that followed it or another that caught your eye?

There is a legend my ancestors speak of that tell of shooting stars

They are heroes that once walked the earth but died in many wars

They are as the stars, to numerous to count but remembered still

I often think of how many have to go, because the sky is too endless to fill

Could it really be that the stars that they spoke of, the heroes once were men?

I think back of when I was a boy and know the night was darker then

Now it seems to me that the nights are much brighter than before

Could it be that my ancestors were right or is it just tribal lore?

Have you ever thought of why some stars shoot across the sky?

Do you think they could be heroes that died in battle, if not, why?

I am sure that some of us would rather say, there goes one I love

Instead of not knowing what really placed them in the sky high above

As I watch my star shoot across the sky, I want so much to capture it

To hold it in my hand, to hold it close and maybe see what keeps it lit

I think I know what I would be; it is our love that keeps it shining bright

Knowing that, then it is alright to believe what was told, about heroes of the night

Just past midnight is the time I love best when all the night creatures are out

Some pay me no mind but others see me standing there and wonder what it’s all about

As I look to the stars, I feel in my heart that what my ancestors spoke of seems true to me

That the stars that shoot across the sky truly are heroes that went there trying, To Keep Us Free

Dedicated to all that have Heroes

Achoba              01/06/2009