Wednesday, March 29, 2017

The Tribe's Magic Person


In the Old Ways,
those who embodied
the spirit of a man
and the spirit of a woman
in one person
were considered doubly blessed.

They were the gifted ones,
the tribe's magic person.
They were the visionaries, 
the prophets, the healers.
They were the medicine people,
the keepers of creation stories.

The elders say, aho,
now the seventh generation has come,
when two-spirited people
are restored to their 
traditional and respected roles,
all of Turtle Island
will begin to heal.

May it be so.


for Susan's prompt at Midweek Motif: Gender. The Two-Spirited people have always fascinated me. I love the idea of them being the tribe's magic person.

Sources:
Rainbow Resource Centre
Canadian Encyclopedia: Two-Spirits
First People
Two-Spirit


Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Distraught Sister Moon



Distraught Sister Moon,
I see you up there, pacing around,
wringing your hands,
"what to do, what to do, what to do?"

Down below, all hell is breaking loose:
bombings, shootings, drought,
famines, floods, melting icebergs,
forest fires,
wildlife fleeing in terror,
with no where to hide,
dangerous people with bad hair
behaving badly.

I see you trying to efface your fullness
quickly, perhaps thinking
if you lessen your roundness
the populace can return to calm
under a slice of moon.
But when were we last calm?
Between the dinosaur era 
and Cro-Magnon,
was there once an age 
of hunting and gathering,
feasting and rejoicing,
before My Cave and Your Cave 
became issues and clubs started swinging?

By your light, madmen and prophets collide.
By your light, poets seek truth and beauty.
By your light, we dream of a better world.

You have stopped pacing.
You like where this is going.
Okay, hear this:
By the Light of Your Silvery Moon,
on earth we dream, we dream,
we dream of peace.


from July 2016, shared with the Tuesday Platform at Real Toads. Reference is made to the old old song of my childhood in the closing lines.

Saturday, March 25, 2017

Saturday by the Sea


This morning, the sun was shining, so the beach was calling. When I got there, the road was lined with cars from one end to the other. Every surfer on the West Coast must have been there. 



The waves were spectacular. A cacophony of hoots, laughter, joyous shrieks and happy dog barks
filled the air, counterpoint to the roar of the waves.


When a photo opp like this walks by, one must be swift with her camera to capture it. The surfers watching them pass seemed to appreciate the beauty as well. 







I like to play with my camera at the edge of the water, trying to capture the changing patterns on the sand as the waves withdraw. So I was standing there, back to the ocean, when suddenly a big wave rushed in, filling my boots, soaking my jeans to the knee, and almost knocking me down. I emerged nonchalantly, cane tap tap tapping, pretending the immersion was intended. LOL.



I came home with my heart singing (and with a jelly doughnut for dessert tonight.) I tell you, life doesn't get much better.


Friday, March 24, 2017

Dancing the Paradigm

conservationalliance.com


As the planets shift their orbits
in the heavens,

a time of change on earth arrives.

Thought:
what would happen if we
expanded our perspective
wide enough to change,
not just a relationship,
a circumstance, a limitation,
but the entire paradigm -
if we breathed an evolution, a revolution,
an expansive flowering
of every good intention,
transforming them to action,
a New Way a-borning?

What would happen if we:
bought no plastic,
watched and participated in no violence,
ate no trauma from factory farms,
nurtured our children well,
believed - truly believed - in Joy?
recycled, reused, reduced,
rejected excess, embraced simplicity,
and loved ourselves and our neighbour?

Solstice wish:
May we trip the light fantastic,
prancing and cavorting
like giddy reindeer
under a waning polar moon,
conga into April sunshine with hopeful feathers
all aloft and glistening,
caper into the dawn, vibrant and smiling
and never so alive!

Come spring, I shall pull on the moss
like socks,
and tiptoe through the forest
like a sprite.
I will dip a tip-toe
into the Pond of Peace,
and set my dreams alight
with the shine of sunset
beside the western sea.

Never before,
has there been
such a springtime of Possibility
as now I see.


from spring, 2014, which I will share with the Poetry Pantry at Poets United, where it is Possible to find some very fine reading with your coffee on a Sunday morning. Smiles.


Of Wolves and Rivers




We are all connected.
As wolves change rivers,
may we all be changed,
recognizing that
what happens to one,
happens to us all.

May we transform 
our human consciousness,
embrace our global interconnectedness.
The way the wolves
alter the course of rivers,
may we change the trajectory
we are on,
away from global destruction
back onto the path
of transformation, replenishment,
sustainability and the healing
of Mother Earth's deep wounds.
May we support and emulate
the flourishing
of earth, sea
and rivers,
of all creatures,
human and wild,
the way wolves
change rivers.


"When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe."
John Muir




Thursday, March 23, 2017

WTF?



He speaks
the way electricity
short-circuits:
a scrambled stop-and-start
of incomplete phrases,
plucked at random.

Yet his henchmen 
eat up
every
incomprehensible
word.


for Mama Zen's WTF? prompt at Real Toads : write something strange you saw this week in 60 words or less. I had just read the Time interview with an incoherent trump. Sort of like you'd expect on a closed ward somewhere.  Only took me 26 words. The sign really says it all.


Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Mirror, Mirror



I looked into the wicker-framed mirror
and a shift occurred with my eyes:
my grandma's face super-imposed
on my own,
her expression grave and wise.

She looked at me
with eyes that knew me,
with eyes that could always
see right through me.
She had a message
she wished to impart
that I had to decipher
with my heart.

I took up the cane
that she left me,
her mantle of matriarch
becoming my own,
stepped forward into my sixties,
welcomed into
the Age of Crones.


for Sumana's prompt at Midweek Motif: Mirror

I remember the day I looked into the mirror, in my little trailer in Port Alberni,  and suddenly saw my grandma's face transposed on top of my own.