for Jim Morrison

tall

stoic

silently

looking at me

with tears in their eyes they prayed to my crow

she flew into the clouds to fetch a ray

of old wisdom

the sisters

smiling

at

me

waving

gold spirit

pointing to the

north to stars and wonders ancient mothers

tending to their flock of wild night children

wind through their veins

kisses blown

angels

swoop

down

kiva

thunder roars

inside their wombs

with holy flesh of nations born of fire

and love traveling to the paradise

the mothers are

in the wind

quiet

strong

Picture courtesy of Sue’s Daily Echo Thursday Photo Prompt