Rock climbing
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my words have power
like thunder in an otherwise quiet night
they reach ears miles from their source
a crack of light with each ink stain
while the message is carried across cities
The feeling of the brush compares not to the feeling of the stone
I know not the true intent of god
Yet i persue
The ruse that comes from the hunt
The height, the danger
All things fall
I am from the tribe.
From the ancestors and animals.
My skin betraying
the darkness it should be.
I am from the native,
yet I am also from the irish man.
I am from the mix.
