What will draw me
from the unleavened mass,
to rise beyond the rigid shape
and rule of expectation
to one breath of air,
one glimpse of daylight
and the knowledge so rare
of freedom.
What will draw me
from the unleavened mass,
to rise beyond the rigid shape
and rule of expectation
to one breath of air,
one glimpse of daylight
and the knowledge so rare
of freedom.
Before the wars and violence
there was light upon the sea
and wind from the south, stirring;
before we sacralized our hunger
fish flowed like the tide, with otter
and eagle brimming the shoreline;
before the internet and electricity
we connected through the land
sending messages into the deep
with faith inspired by the rising moon;
much is gone but she’s still here,
popping up like a surprised seal,
flittering by on tiny wings,
calling us down before the day passes
with these moments of mystery, of life.
Nootka Rose, Waldron Island
I greet the day as I am,
with all my faults and frailties.
Opening myself to the flow of power
I become a river, a tree, a lightning rod;
what pours through is life.
The billowing clouds against blue,
roses drooping under spring weight,
the smell of new dirt and your hair
tied back to work in the garden;
a few words sent out
against the tide of heartache,
noticing what supports the soul
and the subtle urge of thankfulness.