This poem was written about the Old Fort in Manchester Tennessee, A 2000-year-old American Indian ceremonial site. It consists of mounds and walls that combine with cliffs and rivers to form an enclosure measuring 1-1/4 miles around. The 50 acre hilltop enclosure mound site to have served as a central ceremonial gathering place for some 500 years.


I feel them here
in-between each branch of tree
every blade of green speaks
the humble approach, the tender way
The sky haunts the final abode
where thoughts to heaven lend and bend
this land always theirs, never ours
whispers their cry upon the soft river
flows the streams of their soul out
Into the nights heavy laden fragrance.
Their ancient songs here linger
like a lullaby, a tender sigh
where white-tails dance the ritual
flood the fields to the dream
till the land again becomes ancient
filled to the ghosts of yesterday
that like shadows, form behind and through
the thick bushes, the winding trails
these eyes of theirs, here peers
into a modern age, a confused stage
That so longs again the peace.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph