Beautiful Boy

Drawing by Karin Gustafson

I felt your nose

on the edge of my bed

the morning after you died.

Your spirit must have been flying, then,

stopping in to tell me

goodbye

on your way past.

I can never remember you

without tears,

my beautiful boy.

You always went before me

on the trail.

So, still, I follow you,

sending you love

until I catch up to you

at last.

Karin's prompt at Real Toads is flight. Her illustration spoke to me, the more so as Joy has lost her dear Chinook, and I know how long the missing lasts of these beautiful magical beings who graced our lives.

Once the Eyes Have Seen

Once the eyes have seen,
they cannot un-see.
I cannot speak of
the things that I have read,
that I can never, now, not know.
Books have taught me that the world
can never live in peace
until social justice
is what we sow.

The young men are coming home
traumatized by the horrors
they have witnessed and endured.
How can we send our fresh-cheeked lads
into war? What cause is worth the cost?
How have we lived this long,
yet  still not learned
in war, all hope for peace
is lost?

Mankind is at war with
Mother Earth itself,
her creatures in distress,
extinction and starvation
the result: a global mess.

A wise Patriarch, watching his children
grow so wanton in their ways
must shake his head in sorrow
as we live our numbered days.


for Sumana's prompt at Midweek Motif: War and Peace

I just read the memoir of Romeo Dallaire, (Waiting for First Light), who headed a UN peace keeping mission to Rwanda in 1994. The UN and the world ignored his warnings, and then his pleas for help, as he witnessed the genocide, returning home with PTSD which has tortured him ever since. He felt guilty and responsible for the many he could not save, though no one could have done more and he did save many thousands. The world barely registered that genocide. It blinked and moved on. In the book, Romeo reveals some of the sights he and other soldiers have witnessed that brings them home with haunted eyes, no longer the men they were before. Once one has seen, one cannot un-see.

Wild Woman Waves Her Freak Flag

There goes Wild Woman,

head way back, 

and grinning at the sky,

grooving on the puffy clouds

in this almost-July.

She's babbling to the crows

who are making such a din.

She's all adrift in wonder

at this miracle we're in.

She's dancing in the meadow
as she sings a wolfish song.
Some may think she's weird,
but 13 witches can't be wrong.

The blood of Wild Woman
is running through her veins.
They've tried and failed to change her;
 she's too blissfully deranged.

Don't stop her, let her frolic
with the creatures wild and free.
They know she understands them.
They are kindred. Blessed Be.

She's looking at a world

that's just as pretty as you please.

There goes Wild Woman grinning,

freak flag waving in the breeze.

for Magaly's Beautiful Freaks Fest. I couldn't let a beautiful freak fest go by!

TONQUIN BEACH WITH EAGLES II

Today was the lowest tide of the year

and we got to see parts of the beach

we normally can't get to.

I have been stalking this tree for 20 years,

as it's only able to be photographed 

at a very low tide.

I was quite a distance away from this fellow, 

behind some rocks, not to disturb him. 

I used my zoom to catch him

eating some beach buffet.

Two people were standing too close to him,

and he startled and RAN to the edge of the water,

then flew off. I couldn't focus quickly enough 

to catch any of that, unfortunately.

Friends exclaiming over a live sand dollar.

Sand dollar in residence

There is a lot of life on the beach:

...things growing......

kelp.....

sea grass.......

starfish,  anemones......

olive shells......

mussells......

clams.....

crab........

No wonder the eagle flew down from his perch:

That is a nest beneath him,

at this time apparently inactive.

Tonquin, at low tide.....

....with memories.

Instead of a poem this week, I thought I might share these photos from last week of my beloved beach. Am linking it to Poets United for the Poetry Pantry on Sunday. Do stop by and enjoy some fine poetry.

WOLF MUSIC

Collage by my friend, Steve,

The Unknown Gnome

When he died,

somewhere in the mountains,

a grey wolf pointed 

her muzzle to the sky

and howled.

Others joined her,

until the mountainside 

was alive

with wolf music,

echoing through the dark trees

under the moon.

Ever since,

an invisible black shadow

has been silently

dogging my steps.

Though his song is stilled,

I carry his music

in my heart.

....and a river of tears, as well. Sharing this poem from December, 2016  with the Poetry Pantry at Poets United, where there is always good reading on a Sunday morning. Come join us.

SUNFLOWER HEARTS IN A TOXIC RAIN WORLD

source

I make salutation to the day,
raise my arms up to the sky,
bow and do a downward dog.
as the morning gifts my eye.

The world is beautiful today
as far as I can see.
Yet icebergs melt and oceans warm,
the forests burn and creatures flee.

Yoga helps me breathe,
the forest tries to keep me calm.
I try to love what is,
before more of it is gone.

For we are sunflower hearts
in a toxic rain world,
trying to hold onto hope,
keep our petals all unfurled.

We dig our roots down deep,
we turn our faces to the sun,
but ground and air are poisoned.
There's not enough for everyone.

I cannot let go of hope,
must keep my petals all unfurled,
for we are sunflower hearts
in a toxic rain world.


written for Sumana's Midweek Motif prompt at Poets United: Yoga.

The Distress of All Creatures: Warning: Disturbing to animal lovers

Captain, Vancouver, B.C.

On the news, I see them
wheel you out:
beaten, defeated German Shepherd,
intense suffering in your eyes.
And my heart stops.
I have to turn the tv off.
I cannot bear
that some messed up human
has taken his anger out
on you, defenseless boy.

Oh, Captain! My Captain!
The world is cruel.

The second part of this story
is that the same man
just killed his mother.

On the same newscast,
Wolf Number Two
has been killed on our coast.
Skinny, hungry, in search of food,
he wandered into "our" territory
and paid with his life.

And Site C dam in the Peace
will not be re-routed around
First Nations gravesites.
It should not be built at all,
but capitalism only knows
one way forward, has
only one bottom-line.

One needs to be fortified
with protection, these days,
to watch the evening news.

Oh, Captain, your suffering face,
those pain-filled eyes,
the face of all the suffering
of all the innocents of this world,
brings me to tears.


Four years ago, Captain the German Shepherd was beaten viciously and left for dead by his mentally ill "owner". He was still alive when responders wheeled him out. They tried to save him. It was shown on the news again last night  because the same man has now been charged with murdering his mother.

It's getting so my heart can't take the pain of the nightly news. Especially when it comes to animals, who are at our mercy. And we have so little of it to give.


source: CBC News