allaboutbirds.org
Through gates of wisdom we,
most hopefully, step.
It is time for the dream of our life
to be coming true,
for the being of all that we truly are
to flower.
Why wait?
Time is fleeting, faster
by the hour.
most hopefully, step.
It is time for the dream of our life
to be coming true,
for the being of all that we truly are
to flower.
Why wait?
Time is fleeting, faster
by the hour.
I passed through the valley of elm and ash,
their branches entwined to form a protected path.
At the end of this path is the portal
to the land of bones.
I have the feeling
I am not alone.
Internally, I am shown,
where my journey lies.
I must cross this littered landscape,
with a seer's eyes,
find and pick up
a backbone, a wishbone,
a funny bone and
a hollow little bone*--
only the ones that are my very own.
Perched on a quaking limb,
a single prodigious egg sits in a nest.
I hear it crack, and then my quest
is blessed.
A thousand cranes lift up, into the sky.
I am granted the gift of Wonder,
and put it in my pack.
There be spirits here,
and there is no turning back.
Raven sits before me, huddled on the path.
She speaks a single gobble-cry,
turns into Flight
without a sound.
Her flight path has teachings in it
for who we are:
citizens of earth,
grounded, yet sky-bound.
When she lands on a topmost scrag,
she points her wing into the forest dark.
I quake, but have no choice,
my inner guide informs.
When I pass through Night so dark,
I emerge into the morning light
transformed.
It is frightening:
Nothing will ever be the same again.
It is liberating:
Nothing will ever be the same again.
When Raven calls to you,
and points her feathery wing,
listen closely for the
message she will bring.
*Indigenous people believe these are the foundations of our being: backbone for strength, wishbone for dreams, funny bone for essential humour and a hollow little bone, for trust and faith in the Great Mystery.
It is also believed that all women came from the elm, all men from the ash.
It doesn't feel like a year (March 2015) since I wrote this poem. But it has been. Sigh.
Posted for the Tuesday Platform at Real Toads, where we are free to post an old poem, though I did write a silly ditty for Day 5.
Posted for the Tuesday Platform at Real Toads, where we are free to post an old poem, though I did write a silly ditty for Day 5.
What a great poem, it delves deep into one's consciousness and leaves its mark. Greetings!
ReplyDeleteBeautifully profound!!
ReplyDeleteLove this poem so much, Sherry. And today, it puts my "hollow little bone" in perceptive. I'm happy with the years I've collected, and I'm every curious to explore the mysteries to come... I'll bring my pack of bones with me. ♥
ReplyDelete"I am granted the gift of Wonder,
ReplyDeleteand put it in my pack." Without this, the rest of the journey might remain untried though true. Thanks for re-running this piece.
Love it, Sherry. No telling where our minds with the body and then the bones will have traveled.
ReplyDeleteLiterally, the Raven sent me to Mt. St. Helens shortly after it erupted. Ashes and burned trees and bones and lava balls in the newly made streams were plentiful.
We flew into the crater and went round and round inside.
..
Such a strong image, the gathering of bones.
ReplyDeleteLove all the myths you have weaved into this... and I'm sure we can find truth in the ravens and the bones if we but listen.
ReplyDeleteFascinating imagery here, Sherry. The Magical Mystery Tour continues.
ReplyDeleteFascinating imagery here, Sherry. The Magical Mystery Tour continues.
ReplyDeleteThat is some vision quest. I thought you were the raven at first.
ReplyDeleteI love the legendary nature of this (and also appreciated the explanation).
ReplyDeleteThanks for the footnote, esp., love the meaning behind the little hollow bone. This is full of strength and wisdom.
ReplyDeleteSherry, I am so moved by this poem, especially these sections:
ReplyDelete"I passed through the valley of elm and ash,
their branches entwined to form a protected path.
At the end of this path is the portal
to the land of bones."
"I must cross this littered landscape,
with a seer's eyes,
find and pick up
a backbone"
"A thousand cranes lift up, into the sky.
I am granted the gift of Wonder" ... I am completely giddy over this image.
Thank you, for writing this!
Hey Sherry--I agree with ava above--there are really lovely lines here and these are some of them--thanks for the inspiration. (I need it.) k.
ReplyDeletewe're but rattling bones, aren't we ~
ReplyDeleteImmediately, at the beginning of your poem, I thought of the expression 'singing the bones', but couldn't remember the details. Google stepped in. I found to get in touch with the inner Wild Woman, to reach empowerment, it is necessary to sing over wolf bones... hence the expression 'singing the bones'. From there your progress to the gift of wonder and meeting the raven becomes the deepest of spiritual journeys. So wonderfully beautiful.
ReplyDeleteFrightening and liberating, yes.
ReplyDelete"find and pick up
ReplyDeletea backbone, a wishbone,
a funny bone and
a hollow little bone*--"
Always love your insight...
Just finished reading a novel about Pre-Historical America. In it, the tell of a spiritual path after death, where one is first greeted by the animals one has loved, who come to guide and protect one on that journey. That would be something to look forward to as well...
ReplyDeleteElizabeth
Yes, one must listen when one hears that raven!
ReplyDelete