Mocha chocolate irises

Flecked with gold the color of

Wonka’s winning ticket

Five winners of

Their own untimely demise

People have fought for these eyes

Like they fought for the same

Golden tickets , unaware

That that they are vying for

That which they already own

Fate, destiny, luck

All words with the same inherent meaning

Differing slightly only with specific belief systems or the way they are passed on

Metaphors of the metaphysical

At the time I did not, could not

Know the significance of the eyes in my dreams

Only that I could draw comfort there

But they could have been any eyes from any realm , at the time

I wasn’t even sure they were human

The way your life should turn out

If you follow every line

The way your life will turn out

Much harder to get right

The younger you are the harder to use the sight

You study at your grandmother’s feet

Young eyes tracing the designs

Of the cards that she pulls

And the meanings put together

Palm lines against the moon as it waxes and wanes

Stronger, more accurate

Than a weather balloon and a

Girl in a tight dress makeup flawless

Put together with a meteorologist

These are the old ways love

Your grandma pats the grass in her lap

Reading her mind, you crawl over

Lean against her as she brushes your long hair and hope to inhale her wisdom

Though still a baby, you already know it’s something that cannot be taught only refined

That if you did not already possess it

In it’s rawest and most honest form

You would not yet be seated in the caravan

You’d be catching fireflies and moths

Experiencing joy and innocence

Your siblings and cousins enjoy their

Season of freedom unencumbered

A right that’s fiercely held and kept

In your culture, one that you someday

Will stand and fight for unequivocally

Against schoolbooks and laws

Against cutting up a frog in his

Unnaturally frozen death

Instead of catching tadpoles in the creek

Watching and helping their magical transformation

Before letting them go

Understanding that even this temporary

Imprisonment has affected you both

And you are no less taught this lesson

Than the lesson in the different ways

The creator has fashioned for all of

His creatures to grow

If the fires and your grandmother’s

Heart are to be believed, and

At seventy something years

They’ve yet to be wrong

So your eyes meet your grandmother’s

As she senses the pain and understanding

In your heart she sweeps you up

One fluid motion and she is carrying you

Physically and metaphorically

She takes you past the fires, tents,and fortunes

Her aura flashing loud and hot, protective

“This one’s mine. Do not touch!”

Lays your groggy child’s body

Down on the pile of scarves and blankets

Next to the glass bottles where she keeps her children’s tears

Smiling, she brushes your hair out of your eyes

Touches her forehead to yours

Chakra to chakra

Kisses the locket before she places it round your neck

“Don’t worry sweetie it will break before it can hurt you. Grandpa snuck into the church two towns back. It’s been blessed”

That honey smile and molasses voice

All indicators of the truth

As if I would ever need even one

From this earth angel that was mine by right

Could God truly be this good? Of course

A voice that was not mine, was not even sonic

Answers my thoughts from inside

There, tucked in my grandmother’s lap

My head resting on her shoulder

My soul resting on her heart

She would teach me generations of knowledge

How to literally take the pain from a small chid

The best herbs and colors should you ever find yourself in court

Lessons far beyond a 7 year olds understanding

Yet I understood

If given a chance, almost anyone would

These among just the smallest and simplest

Of the keys to a culture

Entrusted to us

To keep alive under the gravest of circumstances

Secrets entrusted to me thirty years ago

Some I’ve only just now figured out

Like the Chinese finger traps free with admission

Or the cat dances being run in the back

Truly no good deed goes unpunished

And as a woman you need never go hungry

You must first learn the art of throwing your soul

To a safe and far away place

It sounds simple and safe enough

Like mere meditation or imagination

And there in lies the danger

Soul games are always played between life and death

Places humans were never meant to tread

No matter how strong your mental fortitude

Or how pure your belief

There are beings eons ahead of you

Who’ve experienced so much they’ve nothing better to do

Than add a feather to their cap in the form of you

So burn your sage, tread lightly, honor those that come before and after

When asked to read a book be sure to do it page by page

Whether you are a grandmother or a grandchild or not beholden to any age

Try to remember what little power you have is limited and harnessed

Give thanks to the king that His is not

Let yourself be in awe over lightning

Tell your children the true story of the magical queen bee

How she earns her kingdom through Spreading peace and magic fairy dust

Watch their eyes light up like Christmas

With knowing , no fake trees

Or Santa Clause needed

Just the natural world and

All it’s natural magic