The stone feet of the island
rest in the sea, their grass skins
glistening at low tide.

The winds have calmed
after yesterday’s storm,
stillness replacing the rush
of air and breaking wave.

Supported by earth
I sit with the old ones
to search for new stories,
dreaming of fire
and cold water’s brace.

I dream I am human
with sharp teeth
and open hands, welcome
in the cathedral of the deep.

Diving with orca
a lost kingdom rises
in the marrow of my bones,
filling my soul
with the treasure of peace.

As I stretch out to warm
in the light of the day
these dreams become ribbons
tying sea to stone
and in their bright colors
begin the new stories.

 

photograph by Patrick Orleman

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

9 Responses

  1. A gorgeous poem! I love the line ‘the treasure of peace’, and we all can be heartened with new stories!

  2. “…bright colors begin the new stories.” Perfectly timed for radiant Autumn colors…now, for those new stories…

  3. re: sitting with the old ones…
    “Soon she discovered that the Japanese word ‘kami’ is not only translated as ‘paper’ but ‘God’.” fm A Thousand Paper Birds by Tor Udall

  4. I really enjoyed this poem Don! While reading it my laptop froze, which I took as a sign to read and re-read the poem. For me this is a poem that calls to be re-read, and when it was, each image developed and spoke its unique story. Quite a feast. But it’s the dream like mystery that runs through that impresses me, describing the movement of feeling through a magical journey. Thanks!

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