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Literature Text
Dream Catchers
I hang dream catchers from twine
around my daughter's bedroom.
They sway in the breeze like tree branches,
bare from winter. I want to tell her stories—
how her great grandmother built them
from willow twigs and falcon feathers
as a little girl. She gave them to me,
handmade heirlooms, to pass on.
Now they are dry and brittle
with age and the weight of decades
of nightmares. They will not last
long enough for her to remember
how they watched her sleep, casting
webbed shadows on her wall.
- Tara Smith
I hang dream catchers from twine
around my daughter's bedroom.
They sway in the breeze like tree branches,
bare from winter. I want to tell her stories—
how her great grandmother built them
from willow twigs and falcon feathers
as a little girl. She gave them to me,
handmade heirlooms, to pass on.
Now they are dry and brittle
with age and the weight of decades
of nightmares. They will not last
long enough for her to remember
how they watched her sleep, casting
webbed shadows on her wall.
- Tara Smith
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Written 2010. I'm 20% Cherokee Indian, which isn't much, but it also means my grandmother has much more of the heritage. She always taught me an appreciation for the culture. I want to pass that culture onto my daughter, which is the point of this whole poem.
© 2010 - 2024 godlovestara
Comments1
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I love this <3
I am also indiant =]
I am also indiant =]