Jan 28
Awake before dawn when morning
looks no different than night
In winter no birds sing to the coming sun
But it is late January, the sky lightens earlier
turns from colours of midnight to a bright cold blue
If there were no snow on the rooftops
it would resemble spring, but the breath
remains chill, a hint of snow to come, weeks yet
before the tulips push through dark soil.
CAS Jan 28, 2015
Today I draw not from The Red Road, but inspired by the poems of Red Hawk, encountered first this morning in an old issue (2007) of Vallum magazine, http://www.vallummag.com/poem_redhawk_dream.htm
and later this morning I also see another Red Hawk poem on Rattle: http://www.rattle.com/poetry/category/poems/
“…they come up river-haunted.
spewing up the language of river stones…” — from Dreaming With The Stone, Red Hawk
As this journey through small stones flows
to its last days, I’m drawn to the flat black stones
of Red Hawk’s river, to the small brown pebbles
in a dry fountain on a bookshelf, to the gloss on
grey stones the colour of doves’ wings
in the late sun of early summer evenings
each speaks its own stone dialect, yet only the touchstones
from friends no longer here reveal their messages.
The first says “Peace” and the other whispers “Believe”.
CAS Jan 27, 2015
Jan. 26 2015
Today, I was thinking about what the phrase, The Red Road, might mean, understanding that it has been taken up by a number of different groups for different reasons. Most of the Google hits are about a TV series I’ve never seen. It is used also by those recovering from addictions. But it seems it was appropriated from Native American beliefs. Yet even there it differs from tribe to tribe. Do I even have the right to use the phrase in my own way? Perhaps not. But it leads me to think about other paths: Robert Frost’s two roads in the poem, The Road Not Taken, the yellow brick road from the Wizard of Oz, and later Elton John. At the end of the Wizard, Dorothy repeats over and over, “there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home…” Is what I am looking for at home? Is it already in my own mind, a place of healing thought and meditation…?
Dorothy meets the Cowardly Lion, from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz first edition. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Which road shall I walk along today?
Perhaps one of Frost’s divergent paths—
no, it is winter and no paths are yellow,
not even the one that leads to Oz.
Even at the end of that road, there is only
a fake wizard, a city where we learn that
everything we need will be found at home,
everything we seek inside ourselves already.
Perhaps the Red Road too is not mine,
an inappropriate appropriation, other beliefs
I can never hope to know. Nothing external
speaks to me today, only what is here, internal.
CAS Jan 26 2015
Jan 25 2015
Today marks the last week of the Small Stones Challenge for 2015.
Photo of Sioux American Indian Flying Hawk (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
“ The Great Spirit… made… sunlight to play, night to sleep, everything good.” – part of a quote from Flying Hawk, Oglala Clan, 19th century.
And I can relate to this today, having finally broken the cycle of falling asleep in front of the TV, not getting into bed till the wee hours, and wondering why my eyes have packed their puffy bags…
At last I remember the bright sun
burning the noon sky a deeper blue
It could almost be spring,
but there are still tell-tale white drifts
across a neighbour’s roof, new snow,
the crash of melting ice falling
from one slope to another, clear shine
of icicles, the long fingers of winter
still holding January tight in its grasp.
CAS Jan. 25, 2015
For women living with heart disease
prep for quillfyre updates
reflections & writing prompts for living with serious or life-threatening illnesses
"I am offering this poem to you, since I have nothing else to give." ~Jimmy Santiago Baca
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