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Thanksgiving Revisited


From the dawn of history

when the people were one

and the gatherings weren’t of need

but were life,

there was nothing to turn back to,

nowhere to come from,

just moving forward

from dawn into life.


The paths through the centuries,

in a most auspicious trend,

is like an owl through the night with a message

in search of the one person

it needs to find and send

in the direction of a clear and cherished passage.


Spring’s thaw, Summer’s heat,

Autumn’s wind and Winter’s cold

formulate our thoughts

like migrating birds in flight,

searching for a season

and someplace to take hold,

germinating our future in the dead of the night.


And the shifting changes that occur along the way

have proven themselves to be more than true.

And because we all have to pass

through night and through day

should be proof that there’s more to it

than just you.


Silence, sun and the rain,

changes with the wind,

show Creation is not ending

because Life is not a distance or a presence

that has a beginning or an end,

still unfolds a flower by its insistence


There’s a stirring in our spirit

and a wandering in our souls

for connections that our hearts want and need.

And a gathering of the people

once more is our goal

so we search for a place

to plant the seed.


We listen to the wind

and hunger to know the words

of a language we left far behind.

Gaze through windows

at the flight of migratory birds

in search of that same kindred mind.


As tomorrow draws near

we stand upon a scattered past

that at times found us lost

but never out of reach

from the voice of the wind,

or a moon shadow cast,

or from what the howl of the wolf had to teach.


The separateness created

from our long ago exclusion

of that language understood

by the first people

gave rise to the loneliness

and heartfelt confusion

by locking God up within steeples.


We thrust out our hands

from a memory we didn’t store.

From another lifetime

we try to lift the burden.

And a pilgrim is fed,

the first people gather once more,

remember, plant the seed,

re-teach your children.          


1998 Crow Suncloud


Crow Suncloud (aka Tom Newman) was born in 1955 and grew up in Southwest Harbor, Maine where his deeply rooted love of Mount Desert Island and his mixed heritage of Passamaquoddy and Scotch continue to inform his spirit and his writing. Crow is currently residing with his wife in Knox, Maine and is working on Inner Woods, a collection of poems spanning over four decades. In 2003, he published a chapbook titled Going Through Winter and in 2010 he released a CD titled Poems on the Edge of Time. Crow contributes vocals, spoken word, and indigenous percussion for the Maine-based indie- folk duo Timbered Lake.


Crow has read his poetry at assorted literary venues throughout New England including The Abbe Museum in Bar Harbor, The Geraldine Dodge Poetry Festival in New Jersey, and The Common Basis Theatre in Manhattan. In addition to hosting community poetry readings, Crow has produced public programs regarding the work of former poet laureate Stanley Kunitz and has collaborated to produce concerts celebrating the poetry and songs of Leonard Cohen.

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