Even the river bleeds
fiery frigid essence
Earth’s watery voice.
**
It is the river
that calls, waters
flowing through my veins
and I, the banks
steadfast and holding
the razor sharp edges
like liquid steel
erode my earthen postures
challenging…
blessedly challenging…
the hardened places.
(Water: Haiku and Free Verse first appeared here in June of 2018. It is has been edited for this version. Image my own.)
Ingrained in me
this flight
eye on the future
the periphery
closing in.
Husband urges me
forward, but where
this road leads
I do not know
Connected to self
open, escaping into
the vast expanse
becoming fluid
alive, nurtured
I have been spit out
by life so often,
taught to be taut,
it’s hard to plunge,
let go of the past
and just swim.
(Submitting for my weekly challenge: peripheral. Image my own.)
Oil glistens
contaminates
drinking water
250 evacuated
25 years of
boil-water advisory
an elder recites
and now this
We’re not animals,
adolescents rally
but ears turn away
government wheels rust
Neskantaga First Nation
want to go home
to live with dignity
know their human rights
Do they know
a .05% increase
in corporate taxes
would suffice
For the 73%
of First Nations
also lacking
this basic need
Acknowledge
prioritize
address
It’s all they ask.
(Written for Reena’s Exploration Challenge #168. Image and information sourced from :
ctvnews.ca
and Government of Canada: https://canadians.org/fn-water)
Idleness is not a ploy
asserted by the river,
her banks, ever vital,
project confidence –
life’s continuum
Her waters, sturdy,
fluctuating, tame
the deepest emotions
I come to the river
hoping to imbibe,
to be intoxicated
in her presence
I come to the river
to be revived.
Water flows, and my mind wanders,
relinquishing thoughts and worries.
Water flows, and I surrender
to the blessing of life’s journey.
Water flows, and I acknowledge
the fluidity of emotions, change.
Water flows, and I experience
the continuum of life’s cycles.
(It is Springtime here in SW Ontario, and this is the first morning since we returned that I could get out and photograph one of my favourite places. Â I wrote the poem some time ago, and revised here to fit the image. Â That’s my shadow on the water’s surface.)
Lead the children to the waters’ edge,
let spirits that dwell there enchant,
sun glistening on star-filled eyes…..
teach the essence of dolphin breathing,
the presence of manna, how to question
roots and behold miracles of fish that fly
and colours that shimmer below the surface,
and sons that walk on water – there are stories
to be told by tides, whose rhythmic waves
follow a primal chant; the ocean’s whispers
reminders that survival is a game for the living
and that in death all return to its vast depths.
(Water Tales first appeared here in January 2017.  I am submitting it here for dVerse’s Open Link Night hosted by Grace.  I am also linking up with my weekly challenge: stillness.)
(Inspired by Steve Still Standing‘s  “An Exercise in Poetic Styles”)
Even the river bleeds –
fiery frigid essence –
earth’s watery voice.
***
It is the river
that calls, waters flowing
through my veins
and I am the banks
steadfast in my holding
the razor sharp edges
like liquid steel
eroding my earthen
postures, challenging
the hardened places.
Death came for me
in that year of awakening
before numbers doubled
and puberty banished
autonomy – it knocked.
Peace accompanied certainty
as I lay, motionless in the water’s
depths, surprised at the absence
of panic, of struggle, a resigned
surrender overtaking me.
Light beckoned and a harmonic
chorus, like the whisper of angels
intoned  : Be strong,and
Know you are not alone,
before l lost consciousness,
And when I came to, sopping wet,
dry land beneath me, the softness
of death’s light, and the voice
of Heaven’s choir remained
etched in my soul’s memory.
The ocean calls in so many indescribable ways: Elan Mudrow has captured its pull so wonderfully in this magnificent poem:
Bring the children to the waters’ edge,
let spirits that dwell there enchant,
sun glistening on star-filled eyes…..
teach the essence of dolphin breathing,
the presence of manna, how to question
roots and behold miracles of fish that fly
and colours that shimmer below the surface,
and sons that walk on water – there are stories
to be told by tides, whose rhythmic waves
follow a primal chant; the ocean’s whispers
reminders that survival is a game for the living
and that in death all return to its vast depths.
(Image: www.shallowwaterexpeditions.com)
One Woman's Quest 