[image by Anton Malykh at kitoy.ru]
October 22, 1996
Spirit in the stone,
you sing to me
of bygone centuries
and ancient mystery.
Once you sat with other Grandfathers in the fire
in times that were so close to life and death.
Water splashed on stone and in the vapors
Spirit-prayers rose upon the Old Ones' breath.
The sacred smoke carried the prayers higher -
words of trust in sustenance and seasons -
up to the Spirit-world on wings of fire,
full of a gratitude that did not ask for reasons.
You once ringed communal fires upon the common,
where families came to take hot coals away,
carried them home to light their own hearth-fires
for needed warmth to keep the dark at bay.
You have known the ocean's roar, ice floe, volcano.
You have been a temple in another land.
Water and fire and earth and ice have honed you
til now you come and fit into my hand.
You connect my heart with all that has a spirit:
all that lies upon the ground and all that flies,
the Standing People and the winged ones,
those breathing peace and those soaring the skies.
Your ancient presence speaks an untold story,
has witnessed centuries of joy and pain.
I place you back on earth in testimony
to all that passes, all that will remain.
Poetry, memoir,blogs and photographs from my world on the west coast of Canada.
Showing posts with label stones. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stones. Show all posts
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
OM SHANTI

September 2, 2002
Om Shanti.
(I am a peaceful soul.)
Peaceful
as the ancient wise old
stones
that rise up gray
against a brooding sky
as detached
as the dove-shaped clouds
that wisp serenely
by
Our souls have
traveled
far
'cross distant galaxies
from their home of silence
beyond the stars
From the moment we are born,
we are returning
along a pathway
that is
uniquely
ours
Om Shanti
I am a very
peaceful soul.
Tell me your dream,
and is it peaceful too?
How came we here
to this veiled question
written on the sky?
Another path diverging:
walk on,
or just go by
We live this life like a dream
that is dreaming itself.
Bemused we ponder
the way
we're meant to take
We sleepwalk
through our
solitary choices
and, at dream's end,
of one accord,
we wake.
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