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On the misty islands of Haida Gwaii,
the spirits walk
and sometimes sing.
I have been told they also wail.
The ancient totems of SGaang Gwaay*
lean and topple onto the land
where the Haida thrived
for 17,000 years.
If one is reverent, and listens
with her heart,
she might sometimes hear
the wailing of those ancient spirits,
the entire village who died of smallpox
when the settlers came,
a desolate, inconsolable grieving
that the land remembers,
carried on the ocean breeze.
The cedars stand tall today
along protected shores,
where the white Spirit Bear
and grey wolf families
move peacefully through their
days and nights.
Mother Orca eats well here,
in this remote archipelago,
where it is more difficult
for our grasping machines
to reach and to destroy.
The Haida fought for forest,
and for sea,
cast off the settlers’ name
for the land they loved,
claimed it back as Haida Gwaii,
the Islands of the People,
strong and free.
My soul walks there
each time I think of it,
(a home where I have never lived),
padding softly through the forest
with mother wolf.
It walks along the shore
with Spirit Bear.
I hear the whisper of spirit voices
in the trees,
the song of an ancient people,
my heartsteps gentle
on this wild
and ancient land.
Haida Gwaii are two islands off northwestern B.C.
Upon contact in the late 1800's, the population of 8000 was decimated by smallpox the invaders brought, only 589 surviving by 1915. The population of Haida Gwaii is around 5,000 people now, half of them the Haida people. Declining fish stocks and forest resources have led to the development of new approaches to financial survival, including tourism, secondary wood manufacturing and the arts. The people have fought hard to protect the land and waters. It is the home of the white Spirit Bear, and 85% of its forests are protected, at least for now.
Haida Gwaii has always called to me, for its pristine wilderness, remoteness and wild beauty. Its people are hardy and self-sufficient, having survived its untamed landscape and stormy winters for thousands of years. The Haida are a matrilineal society.
Haida Gwaii has always called to me, for its pristine wilderness, remoteness and wild beauty. Its people are hardy and self-sufficient, having survived its untamed landscape and stormy winters for thousands of years. The Haida are a matrilineal society.
"My soul walks there
ReplyDeleteeach time I think of it,
(a home where I have never lived),"
How wonderful to have such a wonderful refuge that you can go to in your mind. Seems like a beautiful place, and interesting that the Haida are a matrilineal society.
"On the misty islands of Haida Gwaii,
ReplyDeletethe spirits walk
and sometimes sing.
I have been told they also wail."
I believe your spirit walks with them and with the living denizens as well. You take such care in representing them and their place. A lovely poem.
Thank you so much, Sherry for sharing this beauty with us. I had no knowledge of such a paradise on earth. All over the world the indigenous people are so in tune with mother nature. "The Haida fought for forest, / and for sea," teaching the world the real meaning of 'fight'.
ReplyDeleteThis is amazing, Sherry...I didn't know about this place or the story behind it. I hope it is left safe and pristine forever...with those totems repeating the story to anyone who cares to listen. Thank you for this poem.
ReplyDeleteI like to think of spirits walking among ruins, Sherry, and I would love to see those ancient totems leaning and toppling, still there after so much time, and I hope they will be for even longer. I’m glad to read that ‘Mother Orca eats well here, in this remote archipelago’.
ReplyDeleteI love the rhythmic flow through your words - like a preyer or a song - Jae
ReplyDeleteWild beauty, indeed. Wonderful to see those totem poles still standing. "My soul walks there
ReplyDeleteeach time I think of it," I like the way you put that! I have my own places my soul escapes to when I think of them, too.
Such a beautiful poem Sherry. I deeply touched by it. Those ancient places once people by the indigenous tribes call to me here in Australia too. There is an extraordinary feeling at some. The sadness of course but sometimes there is a tremendous sense of power - like the past will return somehow one day. Suzanne - Wayfaring blog - Wordpress
ReplyDeleteHello, Sherry, good to read your poems again. How wonderful that you have found this place of deep spirituality and preserved culture, to use as a refuge and as a site of meditation. We need such places in the dark times we live in.
ReplyDeleteYour poem hooked me from the outset: I felt an the immediate, experienced, connection that I hope to find in a poem. It's a lyrical, emotionally resonant poem that weaves place, history, and grief into a quiet, reverent meditation. “On the misty islands of Haida Gwaii” immediately anchors the reader in a specific, mythic geography — I try to do the same with my poems about my location beside an ancient stone circle and within view of an Iron Age hill fort and Norman tower house.
ReplyDeleteThe repetition of “spirits”, the shift from “sing” to “wail”, and the sensory framing (“if one is reverent, and listens / with her heart”) establish the tone: respectful, mournful, and humble.
The last is critical as it grounds the speaker’s imagined spiritual connection in humility: “a home where I have never lived.” This acknowledgement of outsider status is essential, especially when writing about Indigenous history and land. It shows that the poet has approached the subject with care and awareness.
It’s a moving, well-crafted poem.