#indigenous
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by Michael Plante I’m an old man in a roomreminiscing in memories;the cheap cracked floral wallpaperand the smell of old peopleis certainly a reality I could do without. It is not death I wait forit is the warm summer windfrom the land wherespirit people riseand haunting screams from our past comes alive.It is that I…
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By Michael Plante I Conviction is a gift that rises each morning.For those of us that wake within the darknesswe stand in the pre-dawn to witness the eternal battlebetween the light and the dark.The Creator shows usour coming plight.To make ourselves ready to join the eternal battleor fall to the wayside consumed by the darkness.…
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by Michael Plante Secrets buried beneath the soilthought forgotten by those that deceivebut all misdeeds cut the souland blackness seeps out like blood.The structure that houses their Godfalls silent in the nightthe sickness remainsthe floors rotten. At dusk they fall to their kneesand God’s eyes look downwhat gets them through the nightshall strangle them by…
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by Michael Plante Reaching out into the vastnessthe Creator caught a shooting star“my aren’t you a feisty one,” he claimed;“full of energy and spunk.” The star vibrated in the Creator’s palma tingling sensation incurred. “I have an idea for you,” he spoke“I know a place where you can be of beneficial use.The most important job…
