~
lines
tangles
layers
~
not quite
almost
maybe
~
no linear way to truth
~
Drawing….J.H.White
~
~
Tag Archives: Nature
As a child
~
I remember
arms and legs
working
everything into my mouth
pebbles dirt bees
I sang the earth
running rubber knees
kicking the sky swing
standing where the rain just……..stopped
laden fruit trees
~
I was used to shining light in the dark
glasses in the sun
hiding blindness
running ahead
while looking back
I trip upon the truth
~
now that I am on
the outside of the mountain
~
I’m trusting
that
love knows
~~~
~~
~
~
photo credits: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jp_42/4930340343/
Equilibrium
~
The bees drone
“we are leaving … keep dancing into the deep
Make this last battle
one of love”
~
Rufus Cappadocia/cello and Sheila Anozier/dance
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iYWvaxU5OXk
~
Fragile
like smog shadows rifling valleys
the mountain holds its breath
~
Fragile like feverish water
the ocean aborts the moon’s children
~
Fragile like bees loosing direction
and stamens playing their last hands
~
Fragile like children born overwhelmed
by viruses perplexed
~
Fragile still
like a flower abandoned by the garden
in blooming makes no mistakes
intelligence in its unfolding
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
Ceremony
~
Down on my knees crawling through the blanket flap cervix
the intimate waves of heat are in transition but I am ready
even though I’m ignorant and forgetful of this raw intricate birthing
Sweat rides my body in rivulets a waterfall’s surrender
I’m tense, but with senses trusting,
I watch the cindering stones as they concentrate
~
with love and arrogance
I circle the entrance to myself
and follow them in
~
The speed of the stones passage to dust
unravels my retread knowing
as their elegant sacrifice eclipses the barriers of skin
and feverish memories collide zig-zag
unable to escape my hollowed mind’s eye
~
I am everyone pouring through my clearing eyes of perceiving
long occluded by the fallout of the human conceit
where even nature forgets her balance
when time has a mind
~
Vapors are rising from holy herbs full of grace
Still, the undead congregate here like moths to our pain
every one, I’m learning, has a place in line
and I am naked and grateful on my knees and finally present
almost touching heaven
in the wasteland.
~
“”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””
A little autobiographical note….While living intimately on 14 acres situated in the poorest county of NY State during the last decade of the past century, I had the opportunity to participate in monthly sweat lodge ceremonies. The first was on a cold February Sunday…18 degrees outside. I began this relationship with the sweat lodge ceremony after hearing about a local man of Seneca lineage facilitating the sweats, who was being trained by a MicMac Elder from Canada.
During the course of this relationship, through my personal experiences of the sweat lodge and fasting with the Elder, I explored my own personal healing from trauma and our relationship with Divine Nature. These sweats, and all I learned during this time, were only the beginning of this journey.
I’m grateful for the safety made possible and the care taken by the lodge keepers and most specially to Divinity for answering my questions and challenging me to ask more.
The deep has always loved me
~
The red tailed hawk still perfect but road killed the colors of fall
The drifting snow burying the uphill windows to lit transoms
The absolute quiet of white
The starving deer the dogs ran down in that hardest of winters
The deer’s bones in the morgue of the freezer until I would bury the bones in Spring
The brush fires I tended that burned hot or low for days under late snow or Spring rain
The old ghost tricking me in dreams to remember our children born of plunder and rape
The gourds that looked like the swollen bellies of whales
The purge of the creek in spring run off stripping bark clean from tumbling dead trees
The surprise of the rising waters climbing my calves the ground saturated to jelly
The path we called Cat Butt turned into a river the sound wild and competing with returning brown geese
A lightening flash snaking the grounding wire silencing the music playing inside with a preacher’s thunder
The swath cut through the static of long berry brambles catching hold and refusing to let go
The oldest grapevine living with the elder pine protecting each other with their roots suckling water from the bog
The young maples I sang with as I learned their grove’s language
The low valley road no one wanted to travel that opened my throat to the sound of a vowel’s reaching
The last call and thumping cry shock wave of each tree falling as loggers clear cut nearby
The hummingbird sitting in stillness on the tip of the branchless dead tree each summer’s day at four
The oceans of colored mushrooms swelling the deep woods just that one wet season
The bed of lace and leaves tatted by oak’s tannin where I lay in surrender to soft rain
The purple woman’s hands of black cohosh rising from wet soil dressed in the mysteries of Spring
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Photo: Deep Woods by Nicholas_T ( https://c2.staticflickr.com/8/7296/8847022426_1d8de04c8c_b.jpg )
Microbes
Apparently our own bodies are small walking planets…or verdant jungles or distinctive arboretums. Really… Newest scientific findings show we have an estimated ten times more microbes than human cells in our own bodies. We are all teaming with unique colonies of microbes living symbiotically. Continue reading
Neon New Year
Facing the window overlooking the garden
I am blindfolded,
a veil over my eyes.
Taken into this darkest of rooms, I wonder
If I am blindfolded…how am I seeing in this darkness?
My heart has been opened Continue reading
The Poetics of Light 
