for thousands of years, warrior societies have existed and throughout time, poetry created as an act of love seems to have lasted an eternity. as it continues to resurface and is reborn when a reader finds old poetry, i am reminded of the beauty in this art form.
with fundamental artistic descriptions that could draw a whole nation together, poetry in its raw and supernatural form, was then as it is today, mystical and can bring forward life where there might also be death.
it became tribal among the warriors, and geographically, poetry could unite people with the language. unparalled in the history of its culture, warriors recited poetry as they prepared for war and possibly into an inevitable march into death.
training, while away at war, a warrior recited poetry knowing that death lingered nearby. preparing for war was a sacrifice and quite possibly existed so that poetry could be born.
poetry for the warrior honored the sweet fragrance of a flower that can only be found in the homelands.
poetry remembers the colorful painted skies of home.
poetry describes a last kiss, as warriors kissed lovers goodbye, possibly for the last time. poetry revealed a lifetime of love with one stroke.
lost through the sands of time, i have found that deeply feeling poetry withstands the test of time.
while reading poetry, i found Khalil Gibran.
although i did not read his poetry in quite the same way as when i first discovered it, his beautiful poetry enlightens me. there is something calming about his poetry that glistens like the full moon in love with the night sky.
Khalil inspires me to rethink how we, Indigenous people, also write poetry with our songs. we also dance and pray our poetry into existence. i am remembering how dancing, praying, and singing is poetry in motion.
finding myself in Gibran’s poetry reminded me to believe in an old gift. the art and gift of giving. the generosity, love, and art found in gifting honors family and friendships that reveal strength, Rezilience, and the deeply rooted beauty of kinship.
the art of gifting not only displays one’s appreciation, it reveals what we value and cherish through our generosity.
“Therefore, give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors.” – The Prophet
as i read through this i was thinking about how the ancients gifted their warriors with something as they prepared to leave for war. there was sadness of course knowing that someday the warrior may not return. war then and today is ragged on the heart. so what did they give?
what did they gift while grieving a living soul before a sword found its way into their heart?