The sky closes and gray water churns
the mountains and nearby islands
just outline without definition;
everything is as it’s always been
except the fish do not return
and the birds are few.
What ceremony can I perform,
whose face to carve upon the cedar?
Slick mud covers the roads,
rocks wet and treacherous;
the messages she sends harsh
as years of suffering take their toll.
She shakes beneath Patagonia,
waves shock the Molucca Sea.
I look out thirsting for her beauty
as the tide shifts, the force of ebb taking hold
and down in the roots I hear her drumming,
following the heartbeat, the high keen of her voice
moving through the darkness toward home.


5 Responses to “Through the Darkness toward Home”

  1. Arun Jain says:

    Any ground is home
    When I am but a
    leaf in the wind…

  2. M.James says:

    Had to look up keen.

  3. admin says:

    Here’s the sound I was thinking of for “keen”:

  4. Bill Dare says:

    Transported and tremulous I marvel at your feelings and our Mother’s wounds.

  5. Mark Dellamano says:

    If there are words that are able to engender a reverence for this earth they are not of the statistics on climate change, carbon emissions or the finite material resources of the planet; they are the words of the poet. Thanks for another great one.

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