Smoke covered Mountains are in my dreams
their strong ancient energy calling me
into a periopd of creating
and intermitent resting
there where there are no first people
we have always been there testing
the realm of the spirit
answering the heeding of the wild energy
which blows it's winds through the tunnels
of the minds of the mountains
seeking and searching of itself
in it's own forgotten visions
shattering the thoughts of today
into the moments of yesteryears
whispering to the Cherokee what they know
to be the truth concerning their heritage
but never allowing too many words
to burn open the wounds of those searching
among the melodies and stories left behind
and my dreams become white eagles
floating over smokey summits and
deep painful cuts into the sides of mountains
soaring into a world which speaks of
new destinies which are not to be altered
so the writing, song and stories continue
floating in on the melodies
released from their storing of long ago
as the dreaming eagles fly into
the whiteness of themselves watching
braceleted ladies disguised in the colors of
spirits slipping out of the caves
warning me to look directly into the eyes
of the ever blooming, ever dying world
sliding down into valleys of forgetfulness
the secrets melt into themselves
only to lifted once again
on the wings of dreaming white eagles

Whispering Wind
Tonya Stall