Friday, May 29, 2015

My Inner Inukshuk

Towards the rising sun, I turn
my morning face, 
ever hopeful.
Vision obscured, I peer through cloudy glass,
towards the brighter sky.
Beyond the meadow, I can see 
the ghostly shapes of ancient horses,
shape-shifting among the trees.

The shaman sits on a fencepost,
smiling, wise and kind,
with an owl perched on his shoulder.
He will not point the way,
for I must find it for myself.
But he gives me a blessing
for the journey,
as the road is steep,
and he knows there will be storms.

To the south lies treasure, precious stone,
inukshuks to point the way
for lonely travelers.
Their arms point west, always west,
where my spirit flies, up over the mountains,
along the familiar highway
that leads me forever home.
A row of prisms cast rainbows, for beauty,
refract the light, for brightness
and clear-seeing.

Towards sunset lies the illumined path,
following footsteps I trod before,
called ever forward 
by the unceasing song of the sea,
siren, lover, clarion call,
to fly my spirit home.
I heft my kit bag full of memories,
tuck in a soupcon of wonder,
and a song to merry me along,
towards my nest at the edge of the world.

North is an inner compass, a knowing that,
whatever the  direction I am headed, 
however long or short the journey,
I am my own
True North. 

This poem arrived thanks to an exercise by Elizabeth, to turn in all the directions, make notes on what I saw and turn it into a poem. Thanks, Elizabeth! Great exercise! 


  1. How interesting that East is omitted--but then the narrator is always the East--heading West and aware of South and North, Northeast, as her own truly holy North. I finally looked up inukshuk--I like them more than the moon and stars, showing my connection to human hearts. But the speaker here is leaving that presence and like an Osprey going to nest--I'm overlooking other possibility deliberately!--heading west to the sea. I love your story poems, of which this is one.

  2. i love this so much...reminds me of the native american heritage...the shaman, ones own belief in their inner direction.

    beautifully penned!

  3. Yes, we all must find our own way...we each find our own path...carrying our bag of memories as we go!

  4. beautiful lines of home calling along the illumined very uplifting...


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