Square Poem

At dVerse yesterday I saw Sam's challenge to write what is called a square poem. Six lines of six words, the first word of each line reading like the first line across. Check out his instructions here. I tried it simply because it seemed impossible. The following is not earth-shaking poetry, but it gave my brain cells a bit of a workout, not always a good thing :) 


Hear, pray tell, this bitter truth:
pray  not for unending youth.
Tell  Pan: soft and pouting sighs,
This  is certainly not too wise.
Bitter but better than foolish lies:
Truth  shining bravely  in one's eyes.

Juliet's Dotage

Found this perfect cautionary sign in google

At Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads, Kerry challenged us to take our inspiration from a Shakespearean title or quote. The Bard himself. I am too exhausted to be inspired this week, which has been demanding, but am always up for a humorous slant at such times.

I base my offering on the famous balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet, imagining what it might have looked like had both of them grown to be old. Remember?

But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east and Juliet is the sun.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon

who is already sick and pale with grief

that thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.

Here goes:

But soft! what is that tapping:

tap, tap, tap?

It is her cane, her other arm outstretched.

How daft! her tilting step the very brink

of yon balcony skirts.

May she not lean too far.

What aging spectre dims the smirking sun?

I tremble with horror at what time has wrought.

Her neck, once swan-like, now has definition naught,

spilling like bedtime candle. Who didst thus plot?

Tis Juliet! How can this be,

my lady-love grown so old?

Can such transformation be time's laughing truth?
Forsooth! and verily, 
verily and forsooth,
methinks yon Juliet,

once so passing fair, 
is now a beldam
grown too long in the tooth.

Wild Woman Update

Kids, I am not online much right now, as my elderly friend Faiza is in serious condition in hospital, and I am running back and forth to be with her as much as possible. I will have to leap back into the pond once I have some time and dig my way out. Forgive the lack of posts and comments. I am thinking of you all. 


This reminds one, how much we take for granted things being "normal", and how quickly all of this can change - in a heartbeat.


Be well. Be happy. Be grateful. For every "normal" moment.

Thirsty Roots

Beautiful photographic art by Margaret Bednar of i&I

Hard to believe

that, on this golden field,

under lowering clouds,

this field 
once
ran red,

young soldiers 
lying amidst the bluebells,
screaming out 

in agony,

the ground rumbling

and heaving

under their feet,

from barrages

of these ancient cannons.

Desperate,

in extremis, 

young souls

departed from this earth

too soon. 

After the gunfire

faded away,

and the rest of

the raggedy boys

were finally 

heading home,

the earth began to heal.

Slowly,

it forgot

those blood-soaked days.

By the following summer,

bees buzzing at the blossoms,

all that was left

was this sad sentinel,

to remember the years

when their young screams 

rang out

across the land. 

Perhaps the wheat 

is a richer golden color

because so much

young blood

enriched its thirsty roots.

The Sunday Challenge at Real Toads is to choose one of Margaret Bednar's beautiful photos, and write a poem. I found the colors in this photo striking, and the cannon took me back to thoughts of the Civil War, and the suffering of those who fought in hand to hand combat in those early days.

Love is the Open Door

Captives of love,

we circle

the enclosure.

Trapped by our hearts,

we need to stay near,

yet long to fly.

I see you yearning

for the freedom

of wild places.

I hear your 

mournful howl

under the moon.

How can I bear

to ever be

without you?

Yet how can I hold you,

when you're longing

to be free?

One long look:

I know you love me.

A pang in my heart:

always,

I will love you.

You need to gallop, now,

those far wild beaches.

You are

 a wild thing

and you are

no longer tame.

I click the lock

that keeps you

from your freedom.

I take the step

that is so

hard to make.

Off you go,

bounding into

Forever. 

One last look back:

always,

we will

remember.

Life moves us

ever towards

the far horizon,

the gift of love,

finally,

 the open door.

I am reading a book Part Wild, by Cierwidwen Terrell, about her life with a wolfdog, who was always escaping his kennel, in his urgent need to run free. As I read, she and I are coming to the same conclusion: wild creatures pay too high a price to be with us. I remember Pup's joy when we lived in wilderness. I remember his grief and anger when we were in town and he had to be tied. And his gratitude when the fence was finally built and I unclicked the lock and set him free. He did a little bow to me, and danced in a light-footed circle.

In this poem, it was getting through his death I am talking about. His hind end gave out, time after time. Each time, he got back up, until the last time. He didnt want to leave, I couldnt bear for him to leave. But his suffering was too much. He tried so hard to hold on for me. I had to set him free, take him to the vet, let him go. 

I am still missing my boy, so much. But this book is helping me to know that now, his spirit is running free, as it was always meant to. In each of our journeys, love is always the open door.

The Pipes of Peace

Green Labyrinth by Sarri at Deviantart.com

Interestingly, Ella set Labyrinth as the topic at the Thursday Think Tank today. Only yesterday, up at the hospital in our town, a labyrinth was opened to the public. Today I went back and walked it alone, and simply WAS, with the path, the sky, the birdsong and the breeze. The ancient symbol of the labyrinth goes back a good 3500 years. Walking the path in a meditative state is said to  promote calm, insight, connection, healing, hope, peace, personal growth and transformation. Today, I was too exhausted to gain much beyond simple appreciation for the fact of its existence  in my town. That was enough for today.

I enter the labyrinth from the East,

and circle it towards the West. 

I set myself in harmony

with the ancestors,

invoking help

from all the Four Directions,

aligning myself with

the earth, the sky, the sea, the air,

and with all its inhabitants,

each one with its sacred right

to be here.

I circle, the way my thoughts 

can sometimes circle.

As in life, I end up where I started out.

Sometimes I get confused

and retrace part of the path,

and that's okay.

It is all

Traveling.

May every footfall

on this path

bring peace.

One step, I breathe peace in.

Another step, I breathe peace out,

sending compassion

to all the struggling beings

of the world.

May each footfall

plant me more firmly

on the path of peace.

In my mind

the pipes of Peace 

are playing.

May their melodies

be carried

on the breeze,

to each of the Four Directions,

to every son and daughter's heart

that longs for peace,

till the planet is encircled, 

blanketed,

enveloped,

encompassed,

sustained

by only Love.

Walking the Labyrinth

Kids, I was given a gift yesterday. This week has been rather hectic, as I trundled dogs back and forth to the vet and the groomers, as well as going back and forth to the hospital to visit my friend, Faiza, whose heart is feeling the stress of  two years of caregiving her husband, and his recent loss. Yesterday, when I arrived to see her, the hospital lobby was in the middle of a celebration. The Vancouver Island Health Authority and the First Nations community, the Tseshaht, came together to raise awareness of First Nations culture, to share community, and to celebrate Solstice and the opening of a labyrinth on the hospital grounds.

Wow. I was really impressed - this is pretty advanced for this little mill town. I was stoked.

Below a Tseshaht singer sings a welcome song.

Chief Cliff Atleo spoke,  then sang a celebration song.

First Nations women, dancing in support of the men's singing.

The labyrinth, whose mere existence makes me so happy.

Walking the labyrinth, singing an African Song of Peace.

Tseshaht dancers, led by an enchanting tiny dancer.

I could not take my eyes off her - so lovely to see 

a young one

following the traditions of her people.

With great confidence and composure,

she led the women through the dance.

Beautiful tiny dancer!

A soft, warm west wind began to blow.

So lovely. 

This tree blooms outside the hospital's doors.

This is the view the patients see from the front entrance - our town lies in a valley

ringed by these blue hills. That's why our skies are gray so much of the time. We capture

the condensation that forms a cloud cover. This year it is taking an unusually long time to lift.

This is the view from the parking lot. Often, deer tiptoe through, as they travel from forests on either side of the building. Altogether, it was a heartwarming day, though I am worried about Faiza. I have so missed the First Nations community, whom I lived and worked among for so many years in Tofino.

The treatment center I worked at has moved to Port. I have decided I will begin to attend their Bluebead ceremony at the end of each session. Only one of the people I worked with remains at the center. But I need to listen to the singing and the drums, the speeches from the honest hearts of these beautiful people, and hear their ready laughter once again.

I am pretty happy to know there are people of vision after all, in this little mill town, who made this day of coming together, respect, celebration - and the labyrinth itself - possible.

I will return to walk it when there are no people there. It will be wondrous to walk a labyrinth once more. It has been too long.