BEING A GOOD CREATURE

 

by Bryony Bensly

There was a time, the singer crooned,

when all the creatures

shared the earth.
*from the song "Magic" by Dana Lyons

His song brings tears when I imagine

all living as they once did, harmoniously -

otter, bear, wolf, whale and tree,

so wild and free, each creature being
so perfectly

what it was meant to be.

We took a garden Paradise

and cut down all the trees,

poisoned all the bees,

polluted and over-fished the seas.
Now we have hurricanes instead
of a gentle breeze.

And we humans? Toxic rhetoric and hate

make me fear it is too late
to go back to the starting gate
and readjust our fate.

But the earth-love in his song
helps make my spirit strong:

we can't abandon Mother Earth,

for all her creatures have such worth.

So I'll sit under a tree, listen

to all she has to say,

and I'll promise to be good

as all earth's creatures should,

because it's all I have to give

to help her live.

by Jody Bergsma

For my prompt at What's Going On - how to be a good creature in a world gone topsy-turvy. Here is wishing us all the ability to face the challenges of 2025 as the good creatures we are.

The Crystal Ships Are Leaving

 

And now the crystal ships are leaving*
while you are dancing in disguise.
A flowerless goodbye shines in your eyes.

The moonlight glimmers on the sea,
in its beauty I'm believing, yet
nevertheless, the crystal ships are leaving.

You were as gentle as a dove;
your heart was fractured by lost love.
A flowerless goodbye shone in your eyes.

The starfields called your name,
a visitor I am always grieving,
and the crystal ships are now forever leaving.

We could not keep you here,
it has now become so clear:
a flowerless goodbye shone in your eyes.

How do we let you go?
How much we love you - did you know?
The crystal ships are leaving,
for a flowerless goodbye shone in your eyes.

for Shay's Word List: an attempt at a de chirico

* a line from Jim Morrison's song The Crystal Ship

What Remains

 

What belongs to us?
Not the winter-wild waves,
roaring in to shore,
not the long sandy beach
stretching all before,
not the soaring eagles,
flying up so high,
drifting on the currents,
wind-surfing the sky.

 No guarantee, the days ahead,
in rain or golden sun,
nor our plans and all the chores,
begun and not yet done.

Not the gifts just opened,
not the shelves of books,
for one day I must leave behind
everything that I
once took.

Even this body
with its span
of increasingly finite days
will take its leave
on time,
not mine to question
Heaven's ways.

What remains:
this day, this hour,
the sky-show out my window,
walks on the beach,
gratitude in my heart,
a forest trail
to follow.

The lifetime of love
I gathered and gave,
the lost ones
whom
I could not save,
the memories
I hold most dear.
What stays is love;
love perseveres.

A Desperado's Lament

 

An inukshuk, in the form of a human,
used in the far north to indicate directions
for travellers.

I found myself in a deep muse,

accidentally building inukshuks

with empty toilet paper rolls.

Desperados will try anything

to ease our angst.

The excitable incoming tyrant

might want to reconsider his plan

to take over unwilling countries.

Why not just get his buddy

to buy the whole planet

so he can Rule It All?

Guess what? I am a news junkie

whose addiction is taking me down.

Is there rehab for that?

I am now sentimental about the days

when people marched for love and peace

and tried to change the world

with social justice for all,

when being kind was the norm.

The world has changed, all right.

It is in a pitiful state.
I don't sleep well.

My question: how - when those at the top

set such a bad example of human behaviour -

how will we ever change it back?

for Shay's Word List

My antidote, as always, was to go to the beach where the waves are huge, wild and roaring just before an expected storm. Two eagles circled overhead. My wild spirit responded with joy. We have to buckle up for 2025. Lots of restorative beach walks in store for me!

SONG FOR SOLSTICE

With all of the things you have learned

from your long journeying,

with all of your heartache

that taught you to love and to cry,

and with all of your dreaming

that helped you to live,

with that same loving heart and merry laugh

that has brought you to the ocean's shore,

come out at dusk and celebrate

the full cold moon

at the place where the tide

kisses the tombolo,

then runs away, laughing.

Yesterday morning's dawn

approached as pink and fresh

as a young maiden

singing the new day in.

Tonight shows itself

as a wise old woman with knowing smile,

tapping her cane and hobbling.

But she still remembers her dancing feet,

she remembers,

and, in her heart, she is still dancing

across the beloved landscape

with joy.

You grew your soul

all green with wilderness

and wild with wolf-breath,

in a forest of great and ancient tree beings

breathing peace.

You owe them your every breath,

each one their gift to us.

The journey has been astonishing, magical;

it has brought you here,

to the edge of the sea.

And now you are looking at

those far, snow-capped mountains.

The echo of the heron's call

and wild wolfsong at midnight

will keep you here a while.

The tree trunks you hug

breathe their smiles at you; they whisper,

"we waited for you, friend,

for all these many years."

The sea sings your soul-song,

the only song you ever knew.

It sang you out of the desert

and over the mountain pass

to the wild shores of Clayoquot Sound.

It has carried you so far,

and it is singing, still.

Come out at dusk to meet me

on the shortest day, in the place where

the tide kisses the tombolo,

then runs away, laughing.

Let earth and sky

inform your grateful heart

that, finally and forever,

you are Home.

I read this poem to a packed house at the Roy Vickers Art Gallery the other evening, all lit up for Christmas. Tofino really loves poetry! Wishing you all full moons, happy Solstice and lovely holidays, whatever tradition you honour.

For my prompt at What's Going On : An Open Link

Tofino Loves Poetry

 

Leah Morgan, beginning the evening
with her beautiful song

Me, reading my Song for Solstice

The beautiful Roy Vickers Gallery
is such a wonderful venue for our Christmas
poetry event. As always, we packed the house.
Tofino really loves poetry!

Last night, our Poet Laureate, Janice Lore, hosted an amazing evening of song, poetry and laughter. A highlight was a poem contributed to by nineteen villagers. Janice had called for submissions and the response was wonderful. Each of us read our stanzas in turn. I choked up reading mine, as a wave of grief rolled over me. I barely got the words out. The topic line was In your deepest November, and of course November was very deep and very dark for my family, with the loss of my grandson, now forever gone, forever missed.

In your deepest November,
you slipped away
like an elfin child;
too soon, your long goodbye.

People were kind about my being submerged. It would be impossible to read those words out loud without emotion. 

That was my final holiday event. Now I will happily stay in my hermitage until the New Year. Other than some beach walks to commune with the wild waves.

Happy holidays, friends!

The Tree of Forgetfulness

I would like to sit under
the Tree of Forgetfulness
for a time,
take a break from
All That I Know
of a world
that is turning so dark.

Sister Owl,
sing us your song of peace.
We will sit under
Grandmother Cedar
and listen with our hearts,
longing for a time
when the people
of the world
will have forgotten war,
and learned to live together
without suffering.

Under the Tree of Forgetfulness
we will let go of
all that is clouded,
and invite in
all the light beings,
the Shambhala warriors
who will usher in 
the thousand years of peace
we have been promised.

Perhaps the coming darkness
will hasten their arrival.
How long can Mother Earth 
bear the grief
of our divisiveness,
the suffering of millions
of  her human
and non-human creatures?

How much longer
can we bear it?

Please, Sister Owl,
sing us a healing song,
so we can continue
to believe
that peace is possible
among the human race.

for Sumana's prompt at What's Going On: Forgetfulness