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Invocation of the Trees

wishes s

Have mercy on us
we who are poor in spirit
we who are never satisfied
we who strive to possess everything

We who are poor in spirit
bless us and teach us
we who strive to possess everything
fill us as vessels with the breath of stars

Bless us and teach us
cleanse and heal our weary hearts
fill us as vessels with the breath of stars
attach our roots with grace and truth

Cleanse and heal our weary hearts
quench our hunger with light
attach our roots with grace and truth
you who honor both heavens and earth

Quench our hunger with light
we who are never satisfied
you who honor both heavens and earth
have mercy on us

two trees s

I’m reblogging this poem from 2018 for earthweal’s “mentors” prompt, adding some tree art from the archives as well.

winter forest 2 4 x 6 text comma

I’ve written about trees almost as often as birds and the sea.  All good and wise teachers.  But trees (starting with the Tree of Life) both anchor and reach toward the cosmic why.

trees across summary comp

Saturday Morning September 19, 2020

I did this painting for a prompt (which I later altered and will post at some point), but it works for this message from the Oracle today.

death aches us
in black chants

she whispers:
do not ask me
to stop time

watch the sky–
her ship is a light
singing through the moon

in the language of
a shining wind

May our actions and words continue and honor the legacy of Ruth Bader Ginsburg.

castle in the sky

castle s

our bridges reflect themselves,
shimmering as we cross
between the solid and what
we cannot control–
the light tells us stories

about what we think we see,
about what lies beneath
the surface of where and who
we think we are–
more, there is always more

that stays unfocused,
that contains what can’t be
seen it its entirety,
that reconfigures itself
with wind, or clouds,

or tides rising from the unseen–
they say humans prefer the mirrored
image to the camera’s eye

the uncapturable moment
of possibility

For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.

castle close up a

 

butterfly

butterfly s

sun casts its
eye on winged shadows,
dancing in
to the day–
tossed by light waves that play with
dappled melodies

butterfly close up s

I’ve been wanting to do another butterfly painting, and the dVerse prompt from Laura, flights of fancy, provided the perfect excuse.

more birds

after adrian s

The morning wakes without rain,
a shimmer of green
appearing from the silhouettes
of the trees scattered between
buildings.  Silence floats
off the glossy reflections
of the windows
holding the rising sun.

I look for Crow flashing
black feathers as he calls
from somewhere I can’t see.
His voice bounces off
the brick and I imagine
he raises his sharp beak,
laughing as he follows
my eyes searching  for the sound.

I have not asked him to speak–
he does not wait for invitations—
I do not for an instant believe
he is without purpose here
on this clear morning calling me
as usual to attention.  Do you
pretend you know me?

he asks, and what can I reply?

How can you ever pretend
to know another when
you cannot even see who
this person is that you carry
with you all the time?
Who is this being that you call
yourself?  What
is their true name?

Another piece of art inspired by Nina–her joyful birds, above.  For the poem, I used a prompt posted awhile ago by Miz Quickly, in which you take lines from a poem and write them every few lines on a piece of paper and fill in the spaces between with your own words.

after adrian close up s

As Jane told me recently, it’s hard to find a poem of mine that doesn’t talk about birds.  I used lines from an Adrian C. Louis poem “Magpie in Margaritaville”, which I found in the wonderful Tupelo Press book “Native Voices”.  I couldn’t find a link to the poem online, but you can read about the poet, a member of the Paiute Tribe, here.

Also linking to earthweal, open link weekend.

wings

wings wet s

wings magnetic s

Inspired by Nina’s butterfly rock, above, a collaboration with the Oracle.

wings wet close up s

spirit wanderer
life must shine beneath
this summer moon

breathe bright breezes
through flowering light

walk on air

let the nightsong
follow you home

almost full moon july 2020 s

Last night the rain kept me from seeing the moon, but I did capture it the night before.

 

curvilinear

curvilinear close up s

curvilinear magnetic

curvilinear s

The Oracle was simple and direct today.  Humans aren’t in the picture at all.

brown
earth seeds
listen to winter

roots
grow between
rain and sun

ancient
light tendrils
green through birdsong

full
into bee
deep summer air

Nina and I used to collaborate with the Oracle on a semi-regular basis.  I’m hoping we will do so again soon.

nowhere to go (sailing the moon)

nowhere to go 2s

journey like a river,
found in the places
that are always home

sing the music of oceans
weaving patterns of mercy–
journey like a river

become part of each movement,
every path transformed,
found in all places

pass along what has been given–
ride the sky like the wind,
always at home

a channel of water flowing out to sea, with the sun reflecting on the water.

Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above, immediately made me think of Paul Simon’s “Peace Like a River”–and that made me think of “American Tune”–hence the 2 part title.  The poem is a cascade, always a good form when writing about water.

nowhere close up 2s

Sue titled her photo “Yearning” and I think that’s an emotion Paul Simon captures well.

…and I dreamed I was flying…

 

but who’s counting?

but who's counting s

just another day
with another mass shooting
(thoughts and prayers optional)

It wasn’t even the top headline on the front page of the newspaper this morning.

but whos counting close up s

I’ll visit the Oracle tomorrow.

posted on dVerse Open Link Night, hosted this week by Mish

 

Wayfaring Stranger

wayfaring stranger s

It wasn’t heaven above surrounding me like stars
on a distant shore—I wasn’t a memory like stars

I had not become a child swimming in the sun, a sleepy
summer afternoon of endless play, swinging free like stars

Hovering in the form of an invisible crown,
it was not a hurricane holding its eye to me like stars

I was not a journey through the tunneled darkness
following the trail of all things hidden ghostly like stars

Becoming what I yet wasn’t, I crossed everywhere–
in a nameless endless shedding of all identity—like stars

A poem of wandering for Ammol at DVerse, in the current featured poetic form, ghazal.  I find the form to be somewhat awkward, but I’m beginning to think maybe that’s the point of it.  It mirrors the thought process.  Or maybe I just need more practice at writing them.

wyfaring stranger close up s