Over the unbroken fetch the southerly breeze

raises the channel in wind driven swells

passing through the rumpled water

wind shapes surging in rounded layers

seeking comfort on the slope rocked point

like those waves that traverse the soul

memories older than life

visions of another world

pushing like the wind to find form

in depths of inner ocean

rising and falling as surely

as the beckoning sea

longing to step into the swell

take flight with the wind

seeking through the surge

for a further shore.

To honor a dear friend who passed from this earth recently, a wife and mother, teacher and artist, an inspiration to many of the indelible link between justice and compassion.

I remember this thin wiry girl

hair braided back from the fire in her eyes

looking out with an unrelenting question

on the stubborn visage of injustice

demanding equal time in the sun

nourishment for the wild flowers

beside the rusted tracks of a long gone train.

She was a force to be reckoned with

more comfort to the hard luck hill jacks

than the elite through which she passed

her presence a singular virtue

discouraged at times but not deterred

walking in fire with the grace

of a street wise angel

seeing through the masks and misery

with a flaming promise to somehow

make art of us all.

Part of me remains on the island

a serpentine shard of soul

wedded to the immovable

standing against the gray fog

crawling up the channel

more rock than flesh

more gull cry than voice

I hear it far away

feel it in my wandering feet

reminding me what must be given

in love’s subtle measure.

The sea is a flowing gown

diaphanous and filled with light

behind her subtle movements

a touch of all that was intended

in a moment of extraordinary birth.

Beneath the surface, within

a seed clothed by the fruit

the eminence of all this life will be

when the old hunger dissolves

and the full tide of her presence

floods our souls with the peace

of one desire.

The old ones knew direction

charting their course

from an inner map

rich with silence.

Awake to the night

traveling with the moon

they found distant islands

beyond the grasp of certainty.

I ask for their guidance

as I set out on the morning

feeling their comfort

with the unformed unknown.

One night soon I will follow the moon’s path

across the wide channel and over the islands

threaded like rosary beads

to the magician cap mountains

where white ice gleams in lunar glow.

I will find the place where ravens are born

always dark and always light

a kingdom of wind sound and silver tipped forest.

The yellow path across the water will take me there

and one night soon I will go.

Let the river wash me today

the moss and brown duff

soften my footprint

the flicker of bird wings

quiet desire;

moonlight paints the land

in a silver unseen

‘til I rise and enter the night;

clouds boil through the valley

trees awash with summer rain,

every sign and signal given.

The incoming waves

gather in forceful pulse

yet when vision softens

to the breadth before shore

long fingers of desire appear

beneath oncoming wave

reaching out from tree and rock

with passionate welcome

for the incoming flow

drawing color and sound

to the roots of the land

the earth filling with ocean

as She reaches again

with the same delicate fingers

for the next great pulse

of power and light

renewing wave upon wave

with undying genesis.

The water lays still, unmoving

in the sweet interval between dark

and first light, the cool air settled

without dawn’s draft of warmth

to raise the early breeze.

In that quiet space

the heart lays open and still

feeling the movement toward light

resting in the rich vein of silence

calmly reaching into the depth

while across the sea only peace.

The wind is cold on rock point

gulls cry out echoing aloneness

crows bark to protect their young fledges

as eagle rides the thermals.

It’s warmer in the cabin, easier

to drink tea within the comfort

than here where the air bites

and a grey chill presses down.

She’s found Herself

emerged from Her chrysalis;

I see Her moving upon the water

lifting with the gusts

that blow the rushing tide.

I will be known in this place

my life force dropping into bedrock

reaching out to the occasional seal

and rippling water stretching to the distance.

Long bronze grasses bend in the wind

sun breaks from a mass of clouds;

She is awake in Her subtle movement;

this is the moment I live for.