{"id":24000,"date":"2016-08-13T19:33:48","date_gmt":"2016-08-13T23:33:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=24000"},"modified":"2016-08-13T19:57:48","modified_gmt":"2016-08-13T23:57:48","slug":"prompt-hour-ten-a-homeless-perspective","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2016\/08\/prompt-hour-ten-a-homeless-perspective\/","title":{"rendered":"Prompt Hour Eleven&#8211;a homeless perspective"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-24044\" src=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/Dynasty-300x169.jpg\" alt=\"Dynasty\" width=\"300\" height=\"169\" srcset=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/Dynasty-300x169.jpg 300w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/Dynasty-768x432.jpg 768w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/Dynasty.jpg 960w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px\" \/><\/p>\n<p>Dynasty<\/p>\n<p>The feather of a heron,<br \/>\nthe wings of a crow<br \/>\nstirred my wandering feet<br \/>\nbeside the riverbanks of my youth,<br \/>\nmy namesake. I am John Heron*,<br \/>\na child of the Crow people,<br \/>\nborn the year after a great war, 1812.<br \/>\nI fell in\u00a0 love with a white woman<br \/>\nand she with me, her pioneering spirit<br \/>\na match to my own.<br \/>\nTogether we traveled the dusty paths,<br \/>\nand explored wilder terrain.<br \/>\nThe birth of a tiny daughter caused us to remain<br \/>\nrooted in a village, where illness took me away<br \/>\nto the next life, the next world to roam,<br \/>\nleaving my only girl to one day found<br \/>\na wandering, roaming, winged dynasty.<\/p>\n<p>Tracy Plath<\/p>\n<p>*John Heron was my Native American ancestor. He fathered one child, my great great grandmother, and from her sprang my entire paternal family. He died of pneumonia at the age of 21 in 1834.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Dynasty The feather of a heron, the wings of a crow stirred my wandering feet beside the riverbanks of my youth, my namesake. I am John Heron*, a child of the Crow people, born the year after a great war, 1812. I fell in\u00a0 love&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":308,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-24000","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-miscellaneous"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24000","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/308"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=24000"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24000\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":24292,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24000\/revisions\/24292"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=24000"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=24000"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=24000"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}