Not Haiku

 

Life and I gave you feathers,

but you have to

grow your  own wings.

***

You thought life came with
flying lessons,
and that I should have taught you,
but when it comes to
leaping off treetops,
that can only be decided
by the courage of
the bird.

***

My hollow bird-bones are now
too tired for long flights.
I am happy to sit
on a mossy limb
and watch the young ones
soar.

***

Owls speak to me in the night.
I listen closely,
and so far
they have not yet
called my name.

***

for Carrie at The Sunday Muse

Life's Golden Beauty All I Know

 

Chestermans Beach, Tofino

I try to hold the flickering flame

fast faltering my eyes before,

to clasp it for some moments more,

its magic mine to keep and tame.

It flickers out, no one to blame.

I try to slow the speeding days,

delay them as they canter past.

I want them to forever last;

they rush towards sunset's golden haze,

extinguish in a fiery blaze.

One does not ask the question "Why?"

We live our lives, hoping the end

will answer like a loving friend.

Our choices, as the days go by,

have cast our fate. We live. We die.

Sunset too close, lit by its glow,

I want this life to never end,

as day by day my last ones spend,

bedazzled by its fiery show ~

life's golden beauty, all I know.

An oldie to share with earthweal's open link

Kelowna Thunderstorm

Global News photo

Gun metal lake and gun metal bowl

of lowering, ominous sky, I swam 
on the edge of storm

that summer afternoon, back when

adults didn't worry much about

kid safety - sink or swim.

Alone in the lake, alone in my

twelve years of living, the scent

of danger near and familiar,

I floated my log on the waves,

gazed up at the sky so changed

from its normal friendly blue.

Thunder rumbled and roared
above my head
like the sky was about to fall.

I didn't know that water

attracts lightning. No one gave me

any guidelines on how to survive

in this world. It took me some years

and my own children's lives to learn
just how vulnerable to danger
children are,
how much they're in need
of protection.

There was a metallic smell in the air

I could almost taste. Just before

the lightning flashed,

some instinct for self-preservation

sent me back to my grandmother's cottage

where we'd sit in the back room,
as on so many summer afternoons
of my childhood,

listening to the thunderstorms

she loved so much.

I loved them, too,
once I was safe inside.

All my life, when I smell that
particular smell in the air,
listen for its roll and clap,
thunder takes me back
to summer afternoons
with my Grandma,
listening to the sky
sing in rumbling voice,
in that small cottage
that offered me
the only safety that,
back then,
I knew.

for earthweal: LIGHTNING FALLS. Right now, in the Okanagan, several serious wildfires are burning, threatening towns and reservations. People are being evacuated, or put on alert. Weather experts say all the fires burning throughout the province were sparked by lightning strikes.

Keremeos Creek wildfire

B.C. Wildfire photo

BUDDHA LAND II

 

copyright Matthieu Ricard

She tosses the rice

to the left, to the right.

There must always be rice

for the blessing.

The Lama walks,

blessing the land.

A rainbow appears on the right.

It is said that this Lama

manifests rainbows

wherever he goes.

A whale is swimming by,

down below, in the bay.

The eagle, watching from the topmost scrag,

gives one piercing, joyous cry,

then resettles his feathers.

He does not fly away.

Joy beyond joy,

tears on her face,

a Lama is blessing her homestead.

The whale! The eagle!

The rainbow!

Miracles, all.

When the blessing is over,

the Lama smiles.

"This is Buddha Land,"

he says.

In truth,

it is all Buddha land,

full of miracles and wonders,

for those who have eyes to see,

and hearts to understand.

One from 2012, my friends, because we need to remember beauty, and joy, and hope, especially in dark times. 

BUDDHA LAND

 

Walks Far Woman

Plant your bare feet upon the earth

and take one step,

peaceful, smiling,

your roots sending tentacles

into the earth.

Find stability, and balance,

knowing your every step,

your every breath,

connects you to the All-That-Is,

as above, so below.

Remember the wholeness

with which you began

this journey.

Shape your brokenness

into a sturdy vessel

once again,

for all will be well,

all will be well,

all will be exceedingly well.

Feel the wind and the warm summer rain

on your face,

hear the birdsong in your heart.

Earth and sky,

wind and water,

all belong

to you.

Experience the peace of this one step,

this single moment.

Then, take another,

each step a gift received,

each moment an opportunity

to give.

Walk with joy upon the earth,

pilgrims of a planetary miracle.

It is all

a gift from God,

this world we walk through.

It is all Buddha Land.

sharing with earthweal's open link. A poem from some years back - before the climate crisis got so severe. But we still need to find peace somehow, in the midst of it all.

The Little Things

 

When you tell a story, be sure to include
the little things: the way you walked past wisteria
the other day, and had to stop and bury your face
in the blooms, such a heavenly scent, and how
it made you remember the pinks and sweet peas
in your grandmother's garden. And you wonder
why none of the nurseries carry pinks any more,
when it is the only plant you want.

Remember to describe how the harbour looked,
that misty morning, with fog and cloud wisping
on Wah'nah'juss, how you had climbed the trail,
and turned, and been flooded with awe and joy
at how beautiful it was, and how happy you were here,
small boats chugging busily across the bay
from Opitsaht, and how you watch
in case a pod of orcas come by, as they do
now and then, and you are so rarely in the right place
when it happens. But you remember the grey afternoon
when a family of greys were at the rubbing beach
off Tlaakasiis, and an eagle landed just feet away
to eat some fishy thing he found onshore.

Our days are made up of such moments,
and they colour our lives with green and sea
and sky. Wherever we are, it isnt the big things:
the promotion, the man you loved so much
who came and went, the things you bought
(and disposed of). It's the memory of grandchildren
giggling wildly in the back seat as their brother's
ice cream fell off its cone and dribbled down his shirt,
and you were driving down the highway 
and couldnt help, so all you could do was laugh
and shake your head, helplessly, at the joy of it;
it's the way Pup would sit, his stare focused
on the grandsons, eating hot dogs around the fire
down by the creek, and the way those gigantic
old oak trees curved their branches over us
in protection. It's the way I looked up at the stars
those late nights, walking old dogs along the road,
the way the lights shone so warm and cozy
inside my little trailer, and how I knew
that I was Home.

I do miss that trailer. I loved it there.

SKY WOMAN'S PEOPLE

 

source: Center for Native Peoples

and the Environment

In the long ago,

when the world was young,

Sky Woman fell to earth,

landing on the back of a turtle,

clutching seeds and dreams.

Her (and our) instructions:

to use her gifts for good.

The animals helped her

to make a world.

Plants made food

from seeds and light and water,

and gave it all away

that all might live.

The hole in the sky

through which Sky Woman fell

is still sending beams of light,

bathing we wayward humans,

in an effort to awaken

our remembering.

The light is urging us

to transform this world

back to its beginnings,

when plants, animals and sky

breathed us into the world,

and everything was one.

We are being asked

to remember:

we are all

Sky Woman's people.

This poem was inspired by legends of the indigenous people, handed down in oral tradition. I especially love the legend of Skywoman, arriving on Turtle Island.

for Brendan at earthweal: Beginnings