Here I Am

 

Here I am, at the farm, fire crackling in the fireplace, snow falling on the horses in the field, happy dog snoozing beside the fire. The tree is full of twinkling lights, all is quiet and peaceful, and I remember other Christmases in other years. 

How I loved Christmas when my kids were young. It was magical. Because we struggled to survive all year, on that one day, there was excess, the shrieks of happy children, then quiet, as they retreated to read their new books and I cooked the Christmas feast.

Now my granddaughter is making Christmas magical for her small kids. On Boxing Day I will see them open my gifts and wonder where life will take these small voyagers, along paths we cannot know.

It's Christmas Eve, and I am at the farrm, remembering Christmas across the span of years that have been mine. The journey has been amazing. I am grateful for it all.

WOLVES IN THE TWILIGHT

copyright Gaby Harig

 

The wolves came to me in the twilight,

hungry and sad, looking at me with

questions in their eyes. I could not

meet their gaze.

So many heartbreaks, all over the world -

the wild ones and I

feel them all.

It is not enough any more

to walk in the forest

or along the shore,

to breathe in the beauty and peace,

for my tattered heart and its grief

to find some relief.

For the wild ones, each day is a struggle

to find habitat and food,

to keep their young alive.

How do I carry the weight of the world

when the leaders don’t care

if any of us survive?

I am watching the planet I love

slowly melting into the sea.
Injustice is everywhere -
it is too much for me.

Children march for their future

not yet even begun.

The tycoons grin

as they stuff their wallets

with air stolen from

the lungs of the young.

The wolves came to me in the twilight.

“Give us some hope,” they said,

but I had none to share.

My pen, my heart, my hope

fall silent

in this spiritual poverty

(of which I am only too
aware.)

I can hear trees weeping

in the forest,

the wind wailing laments

at the shore.

I will carry this pain

with me

till I can carry it

no more.

for Susan's prompt at What's Going On: Twilight

Sad. Hungry wolves in winter. And yet it is Christmas Eve. I wish you some joy, time with loved ones, some hope for a better year ahead. We live in hope because we can't live without it. Thank heaven for dogs.

 

source

The Silence of the Heart

In the silence of the heart

grows the tender white lotus blossom

that is your life.

Water it gently with your tears.

Bathe it in the sunlight of your hopes

and the soft moonlight of your dreams.

Listen! for the trees are sighing,

holding out their arms as you approach,

hoping you will truly see them

at least one time before you die,

will let them hold you gently

as you cry.

Behind your sleeping eyes

lies the Watcher In the Woods,

the one who nudges you this way and that,

who sighs wearily, when you do not

heed her call,

this One who knows you best of all,

who has picked you up after every fall.

As we draw closer to the end of things,

our spirits slow, our voices gentle;

we are not nearly as certain as we once

so vociferously were.

It is time for silence now,

and reflection,

for looking back and for remembering,

with love.

We need much silence now,

a silence of the heart

weary from making its own way.

We speak more softly, and less often;

the young won't listen anyway.

They have to find

their own befuddled way,

their own steep price

in pain to pay.

Our song now is a murmuring brook

trickling over some knotted roots;

we are content to meander whimsically

through this just-before-winter,

letting go like the last withered leaf

on the gnarled old maple,

twirling dreamily down

to the mossy bank,

where we pause for a spell,

lulled by the water's flow.

So soft, its voice, as soft

as the somnolent song of our lives

the last notes sounding,

holding death at bay,

before they gently, softly, finally

fade away.

For Sumana's prompt at What's Going On: Silence

Alone

 

The pines, darkly shrouded

in morning mist,

line the river

like guardians of the wild.

The water roars its winter fury,

white spray tumbling over rocks

and through the narrow

rock-walled chasm,

green with the river's passage,

all these years.

An eagle surveys all

from his perch atop

a giant cedar.

And me? I walk in sorrow

along your favourite river,

holding your leash

and still - always - missing you.

Do you feel me,

searching for your spirit,

lost in the absence

of your soft padding footsteps

by my side?

How many sad walks

along the river will it take

before there are no tears?

Your being gone

is still too big an absence,

and it has nearly been

one year.

for Mary's prompt at What's Going On - Lonely ,  In this poem I remember how I felt the first time I walked the river at Stamp Falls after Pup's death. I still miss him, and it has been fourteen years, as many years as he was alive. He had, as Annell once wrote, "a spirit too big to kill."

Whalesong and the Language of Elephants

Google image

 

In the depths of the ocean, an otherworldly,
mystical, lonely sound is heard,
a song older than time, echoing
mournfully through miles of water
in distinctive patterns, that repeat,
improvise, and evolve.

Each whale in the sea, it has been learned,
composes her own song,
which is constantly growing and changing,
an example of cultural evolution
that far exceeds our own.
If only they could find a way to speak.
If only we could find a way to hear.

In the African savanna, or
at your neighborhood zoo,
if you sit in silence, and listen,
you might feel a throbbing in the air:
the vibration of elephant communication,
a sound below the pitch of the human ear,
their infrasonic calls.

Like humans, these gentle beasts feel community,
attachment, love, sorrow, grief, passion and play.
If parted for mere hours, on return
there is a joyous cacophony of welcome:
elephant cries of joy, ear flapping, trunks twining,
as if the benevolent being has returned
from years away, though he may have last
been seen earlier that morning.

Sometimes the entire herd
becomes completely still.
They are listening,
a trait we humans would do well to emulate.
Being Silent, we open our whole being
to what is here, before and all around us.
Becoming completely present to the moment,
we can hear trees sighing, a single stone
plunking into moving water,
eyes following clouds across the sky.
It is all magical. It is all Enough.
If we listen hard enough, we might even hear
the planet humming to us from its inner depths.
Mother Earth is continually speaking to us,
singing to us - singing us her song of love.
Waiting for us to love her back.

for Lisa's intriguing prompt at dVerse: Creature Feature:   speaking from concern at animals' well being during the climate crisis, and my belief that animals are sentient beings, and feel things as deeply as we do. (Legendary Creatures by Type)

source: In the Presence of Elephants and Whales, with Katy Payne, at On Being with Krista Tippett. Katy Payne has spent her life decoding the language of whales and elephants in efforts to better understand the species, and assist in conservation. Katy speaks of cultural evolution, demonstrated by the evolving songs of whales, and many other fascinating things. This is a wonderful interview, which set me dreaming about two species I love very much. I also am remembering here a news report many years ago, where scientists had heard a hum emanating from the depths of the earth.

I Fortify My Heart

 

I fortify my heart

against the loud and clamorous voices

that speak untruths -
against the hearts that have no love in them,

who seek to divide and disappear

the most vulnerable among us -

against those promoting hate

who have forgotten there is no Other,

only Us.

I fortify my heart

against despair, against hopelessness,

against surrendering the rights

that we hold dear,

that are vanishing week by week.

I fortify my heart by believing

more of us seek justice, truth, and humanity

than those sliding into the pit

of fascism, not understanding

that they, too, will suffer

under its yoke.

I fortify my heart

by understanding that the arc of justice

is long, that the universe tilts itself 

towards light, and goodness, and justice,

and that one day, when all of this madness

has done its worst, there will be a time 

of reckoning, of healing,
of restoring what has been lost,

a time when peace and dignity will return

to a continent that has forgotten

who we are and who

we are meant to be.

For now,
I resist.
I resist.
I resist.

for my prompt at What's Going On - Resistance.

I resist, but I also experience much grief at the state of the world, and outrage at all the injustice. But because everything is so dark, I have had to learn to protect myself by striving for balance, finding solace in nature - and also understanding that the pendulum swings from one side to the other, and that this will not be our forever reality - if humankind survives this difficult passage. I have to believe that truth and justice will - eventually - prevail. The North American spirit is used to being free.

COURAGE

 

Mi'kmag mother kneeling in front of police
at an anti-fracking protest.
APTN News photo

Courage
is peacefully protesting
for the rights of others,

even when it draws the ire
of the oppressors.

Courage 
is speaking up
against racism and injustice,
when others in the room
are silent.

Courage
is never giving up
our insistance on
democracy and human rights,
even as masked agents
disappear people
right before our eyes.

Courage
is feeling the fear,
seeing the militarized and brutal forces
lined up against you,
donning your frog costume
and dancing your froggy dance.

Portland's brilliant response
to the arrival of trump-sent militia in their city.

for Susan's prompt at What's Going On - Courage.