The Dream of Peace

 

They say we come from starlight.

We have long been nurtured
and protected

by ancient forests, our Earth Mother,

and blue sky.

We were fashioned by dreamers,

awakened to the world by song.
In our DNA lies our ancestral memories
of those early ones, who tilled the soil,
observed the seasons and the land's needs
with respect.

In our bones we feel our kinship

with whalesong, padding paws

along soft trails, the sharp eyes

of wise old owls - a world where,

once, we too belonged.

How did we, born of all this

love and light, become such

a divided, warring species?

Whence and why the turning

from long pathways of peace

to this dark and troubled world?

And yet, within our hearts,
across the nations,

the dream of peace still lives.

We recognize
that, always and forever,
we are meant

not to surrender, but to rise.

source

for Mimi Lenox's Blogblast for Peace 

WITCHES' SONG

Who knew there were this many happy "witches" in Port Alberni? Smiles. Some fun for Halloween.

Pass me the stir-spoon, Sister, quick!
This stew's getting a little thick.
Push down the devil's claw. Mix in some thyme.
The brew must be ready by dinner-time.

A pinch of this and a pinch of that,
and dont forget to spell the Cat.
Owl sits in the corner with beady eye.
Toss him a mouse as you go by.

While it is brewing we'll sip on some gin,
and call the witches-in-training in.
Thrice round the cauldron, add some eye of newt,
and mind how you circle, or you'll tread on my boot.

Toss in two warty toads and the leg of a frog.
Let's fly round the meadow, skinny-dip in the bog,
count all our warts, multiply by two,
and I will teach a new spell to you.

To draw love, catnip, valerian for sleep.
Drop a marigold bloom in your tea; let it steep.
Calamus root and the knuckle of a frog.
We'll sing in the kitchen and dance with the dog.

Come out, my pretties, to the meadow in the hollow.
Skinny witches first, and the fat ones follow.
We will chant incantations,
swoop around on our brooms,
and watch that black cloud cover the moon.

Snakes go hiss and flames they crackle.
Potions bubble and pop to the witches' cackle.
We'll cast our spells quickly
'neath Grandmother Moon.
Be nimble, Sisters; morning comes too soon.

In the spirit of All Hallows Eve. I think I had a bit too much fun with this, and seem to have the witch's incantation rhythm down just a little too well. But don't be scared. I'm a kind witch!

1955

1955. 

I was nine.
We got our first black and white t.v.
with two channels that went off the air late evening.

Our phone was attached to the wall.
When we picked it up,
a voice (a real one) said "Number, please?"
and connected us. We had a party line,
two rings were ours, three rings someone else.

We had inkwells and nib pens
and had to pen a line of O’s,
learning cursive, that resulted in holes in my paper.
Remember blotters? To dry the ink on the page?
I marvel we didn't spill the inkwells.

The teacher dictated the word “paw” to write down,
and I fell in love with words.

I had a red felt circle skirt with a white felt horse
appliqued on it. Very en trende.

I slept in a built in bed in a cubby, filled with
all my library books – my bed of dreams.
Then I got moved upstairs,
and it became my baby sister's bed.

She was born that year, to great family excitement. 
She was all dressed up in a flouncy lace dress
I was plain and freckled with stringy hair,
and jealous. I had asked for a sister, but
was now reconsidering.

My face tells the tale. LOL.

Happily, my sister and I have a great relationship. We are there for each other and I am so thankful to have this person in my life who has always been there and remembers life Back Then. She is so kind to me, always.

GHOSTS IN THE CORNERS

 

My dad, Brick Baker,
in the late 1940's

My family is Irish, so ghosts are a given:
ghost stories as a child; my father's ghost
smiling at me from behind the counter 
at Long's Drug Store the summer he died;
the ghost I once shared a store with
who objected to our presence.

One morning, when my kids were young,
I woke to see a female ghost, smiling at me,
in the corner of my room. I smiled back,
unafraid, as she faded away.

A lot of things have scared me, in my life:
men, and things that happened to my kids.
My father, when I was young.
But when friendly female ghosts 
crouch in my corners,
I welcome them as friends.

The dead don't scare me half as much
as the living (especially those without hearts
who are ruling parts of the world now.)

We are getting close to the witchy season. I am saving a very witchy poem for Halloween. I never watch scary movies or horror films. The scariest thing I watch these days is the news.

It's Going to Take a Million Years

 

Nepal landslide, Reuters photo

A mountainside crumbles in Nepal,
an earthquake buckles
the ocean floor in the Atlantic,
a Kelvin wave floods
California shores,

Kelvin wave in California
aol.com photo

Wild animals and grey whales
starve and die.

The earth and water are too hot

from our addiction to fossil fuels.
To leaders and corporations,
stuffing billions into their pockets
means more to them than the price
the entire planet is paying.

Maybe they think their wealth
will keep them safe.
Maybe they just don't care.
Calling everything a hoax
and living in lies and denial
must be more comfortable
than how we thinking, appalled, 
conscious and horrified people feel.

But.

Tumult and disasters and collapse
beyond our comprehension
may yet come.
Mother Earth is meant
to heal and grow,
despite her misguided
and destructive children.

However.

It's going to take a million years
for the earth to recover
from our brief sojourn here.

Our peninsula, water on both sides. 
We are vulnerable.
getty images

The Kelvin wave is supposed to hit our narrow peninsula three times here on the west coast of Vancouver Island, once in a few days, then just before Christmas and again in January. The effects of the climate crisis will leave no one untouched, except maybe those billionaires in their gold plated towers. Stay tuned.

Wild Stone Hearts

 

Jared Lloyd photo

I once worked in a place
where hurting hearts came
to heal.

As I walked the path, each morning,
I found so many heart-shaped rocks,
picked them up and placed them
on my desk.

Many big hearts worked there,
welcoming in the wounded,
the distressed.

The people wrote their pain
into letters, and cast them,
with tears, into the fire.
Every time, the eagles came,
circling above, in witness
to their grief for all that
might have been.

Sometimes in winter, we saw
wolves dancing on the beach.
Old growth trees surrounded us:
protection, peacefulness.

They arrived, those wild stone hearts,
heads down, in pain. But the Circle
did its work. Slowly their heads came up,
their eyes began to shine.
They rediscovered laughter and hope again.

Their hearts, so guarded, softened
week by week. Six weeks to ease
their suffering, to turn towards life again,
the way stones are made smooth
by eons of endless rain.

Rhythm

 

"R-H-Y-T-H-M" Sister Catherine pontificated,
from her desk at the head of the room.

Grade nine. My introduction to rhythm,
to poetry,  to the world of words.

My first poem came to me there.
I wrote it down in my spidery scrawl.

                          ***

Gastown, 1972, as I felt personal freedom 
for the first time, and began to grow a Self.
Walking into a gallery: Here Comes the Sun
playing on the stereo. Love lying ahead,
just waiting to be discovered.

                          ***

Years later: a gathering of gentle people
in a meadow, just before sunset. The wild notes
of Mullingar rang out: fiddles, violins, drums.
Spontaneously, everyone began to dance,
in a wide circle, around and around the meadow.
My youngest on a friend's shoulders, both grinning.
Joy, as the sun went down on a golden chapter
of my life.

                          ***

2026. Songs of the 70's take me back
to all those joyous times: music, always
leading me, the sound track of my life.

Now they bring tears, for all the hope and dreams
we had back then. For how close we came
to changing the world.
For all that dark hearts have done instead.
For how much we need 
to change it back.

                        ***