Warren Rudd photo
My life has been a pilgrimage through hallowed ground.
My lover, Clayoquot Sound, her siren song
the ocean's roar,
My lover, Clayoquot Sound, her siren song
the ocean's roar,
I live enraptured by the beauty of this glorious
place I've found,
my heart exulting in her forest and along
her golden shore.
place I've found,
my heart exulting in her forest and along
her golden shore.
My lover, Clayoquot Sound, her siren song
the ocean's roar,
like a murrelet, along her ley lines I was drawn.
My heart exulting in her forest and along
her golden shore,
I will give praise until the breath of life is gone.
the ocean's roar,
like a murrelet, along her ley lines I was drawn.
My heart exulting in her forest and along
her golden shore,
I will give praise until the breath of life is gone.
Like a murrelet, along her ley lines I was drawn,
beauty like a banquet spread before
my spellbound eyes.
I will give praise until the breath of life is gone,
blessing the All That Is for silver sea
and cloud-kissed skies.
beauty like a banquet spread before
my spellbound eyes.
I will give praise until the breath of life is gone,
blessing the All That Is for silver sea
and cloud-kissed skies.
Beauty like a banquet spread before
my spellbound eyes,
I live enraptured by the beauty of this
glorious place I've found.
Praising the All That Is for silver sea
and cloud-kissed skies, and that
my life has been a pilgrimage through hallowed ground.
my spellbound eyes,
I live enraptured by the beauty of this
glorious place I've found.
Praising the All That Is for silver sea
and cloud-kissed skies, and that
my life has been a pilgrimage through hallowed ground.
HYMN OF PRAISE
Wind whispers
through the canopy
like lake ripples
through the trees
Small leaves spiral
thick as raindrops,
pixies dancing
on the breeze
Sunlight consecrating trees -
almost I hear an organ sound:
I, pilgrim and acolyte,
the golden forest
hallowed ground
Birch bark like ancient manuscript
writ by a gnarled and pointy hand
tells tales of olden times long-gone,
bygone days upon the land
Once again, the breeze-song swells,
upon the wind a hymn of praise:
to these blessed simple days,
these days we have,
a hymn of praise.
***
for Brendan at earthweal where we are giving praise for nature's beauty. The second small hymn was written some years ago, when words were flowing more easily than they do now.
You do live in such a beautiful place, Sherry. So much beauty in your midst.
ReplyDeleteYou're in love with the land just as I am. Such beautiful and heartfelt songs of praise. I think that all of us have this innate ability to love the landscape and the earth around us, but we have been brainwashed out of it by the forces of mindless consumerism. We have much to unlearn.
ReplyDelete"Along her ley lines I was drawn" is the arc of praise which draws us all so deeply into the first magic poem. Who would not love? And who would not grieve? Rilke was right about Lament belonging in the world of Praise.
ReplyDeleteI was drawn here before I ever saw it. I felt a pull. Once I visited, there was no turning back.
ReplyDeleteWonderful words
ReplyDeleteI detect no shortness of words Sherry. Both poems are beautiful and, I know, as sincere as it gets. The world loves your heart.
ReplyDeleteThat's so beautiful I felt tears of gratitude prickling my eyes as I read it. Both poems have a timeless feel and read like the classics of past times - Suzanne (Mapping Uncertainty)
ReplyDeleteIt would be hard to not be a poet in a place such as this. I love the beauty of Clayoquet Sound. You do it justice.
ReplyDeleteThe circle of the pantoum is perfect to embrace this sacred land. Praise be, indeed.
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful love song! I love living on the prairie, believe it or not, but I envy you being able to visit this beautiful area.
ReplyDelete