When the world makes no sense

and I am weary of its horrors,

I close my eyes and imagine myself

in the Blue Ridge Mountains, see

the purple and pinks of its sunrise,

the shadows in its ridges.

I imagine myself where Native 

Americans once lived, respected

the earth and its animals, and

I see the wildflowers and plants

used by wise women as medicines. 

I look up and see a hawk slowly

swooping in circles and floating

lazily among the clouds. My

body relaxes and my soul is fed.