Spring blossoms beckon
The fruits of summer’s labor
Spring blossoms beckon
The fruits of summer’s labor
Healing is not for the faint of heart. It’s a contract built on a vow to harness and clutch only at ironclad strengths.
It’s quiet now; calmed are all those bouncing cells of thought and feeling that ricocheted through my panic borne in another round of ‘growth’.
I have been brought to this hushed place only by the grace of my Relations.
They, who took the suffocating lifetime of pain and lifted it to the skies – where our Ancestors tenderly pulled it into their own hearts.
Toward the centre of the Ancients where such things are cleansed; healed and rendered harmless.
To the place where all things are made sound again and holds a promise that surely
we’d all choose, if we knew.
This painlessness was not instant, oh God, not hardly. I wailed all through their processes.
They let me feel every piercing facet of what we’d endured, and then they mercifully
returned with understanding.
Every sting was an exposed hurt that hadn’t been acknowledged, sometimes for centuries.
Every prickle that scratched through my soul was a reminder to honor it and to turn toward where to offer it.
With every step in every ceremony they led me to, they walked me out of the darkness.
They didn’t need me to believe in them; they already knew I was too lost to know what to believe.
I only needed to follow what was offered, including the smallest fragments of feeling
that said – maybe.
I am a blank slate, as clean as the newborn, my future standing right in front of me, unseen.
I don’t know what to wish for anymore; I don’t know what my dreams are.
I only know I’ve been brought to this place, where every moment is a choice that I can feel only in my heart; a knowing that prompts me to accept it without even a clue as to why.
My canvas is a wide open space and I observe in wonder at what and at who is being placed onto it.
I don’t feel the immediate inserted images are the story, I only know that the reality, which traces to every soul that follows, is so much bigger than my pitiful imaginings.
They’ve taught me the reasons behind the hurt and soothing are far bigger in purpose; every healing moment is for every generation before me and all to follow.
It’s the only teaching I’ve ever been given that I know some day, will permanently alter everything.
It’s quiet now, and I know this is a gift – a treasure granted for maybe only
5 more minutes…
February 14th was changed forever for Indigenous communities 28 years ago. While we still share in acknowledging and celebrating love, we also use the day to recognize and memorialize our mothers, daughters, sisters, cousins, aunties and grandmothers lost to us inexplicably and/or violently.
We memorialize them in a march through town and city streets to remind all of those still missing and that despite calls for justice and formal inquiries, we have yet to receive any for those murdered. It’s a national disgrace that, as Indigenous women, we remain the most vulnerable demographic in all colonized countries.
A million smiles
Crossed our hearts before goodbyes
Home longingly waits
Remember that time
You trimmed the thickened branches
A hostage was claimed
Little game of tit for tat
Forgotten loss; willow’s gain
It’s been about a month’s worth of thoughtful weekly beginnings. Something in the air… change, newness, the call of Spring? I don’t know. I do know each one gave me something personal; something not quite typical…
Maybe merely fine-tuning
Eerie, the Blood Wolf Moon Eve
Sunday SoftlySunday night refuge
Musical libations soothe
Under homemade stars
Singing Our Lives With His WordsSong flows like whiskey
Tenderly trickling around
🎶 While all my angst gently weeps… 🎶
I must surely have been a singer
in a former life
Feeling so deeply, too deeply, too deeply
the depths of all notes
as they resonate
through my now abject humanity
The voices that surround and draw the listening to their knees
send me reeling into the realm of exquisite pain,
as they transform me with the intensity of their perfection
Imprisoned by aural beauty; bathed in utter envy
by artistry that can only come from the centre of grace
All denied me by the angels
who repeatedly escort
new melodic bliss and torment
My hesitant mewling fills space between infinite wishes & sighs
to join them, if only with the least of their mellifluous gifts…
I will the next life to free me to sing elegance
or leave me to turn into mere star dust
(Only a little hyperbolic. A very little… )
Softly she enters
The prayers of her music
A bold soul dances
The grandfathers smile
Calling to the grandmothers
A Warrior’s heart
Gifted reverent power
A shelter of strengths
For non-Indigenous friends, a little info note about powwows… A powwow is a social event where we sing and dance in honour of our ancestors; to pray to, for & with them and Creator, and to enjoy the good humour, kindnesses and company of our relations. The day’s highlight are the competitive dances that enthrall with their colours, intricate detailed regalia, and the sheer physical power put into the dancing. Then there are various food vendors that’ll test your capacity to eat heartily.
All are invited to share in these events to not only enjoy the day’s events, but also to support Indigenous artisans and craft makers, who provide beautiful, genuine Indigenous work in all sort of art genres for sale.
You won’t have to wonder about the protocols, i.e. how one may participate in the dancing or when you may take photos, or when to stand for a prayer, etc. All powwows have an MC that announces or directs these points as they arise. A quick tip: the standard invitation for anyone to join the dancing begins with the call: “Inter-tribal dance”.
Hiy hiy and congratulations to all for a really wonderful 2018 Powwow season.
Showering her gifts
To all who pay her homage
Sweet, pink abundance
She was still and sang
Calmly embracing her peace
As the hawks circled
Hiding in Plain SightLuminous greetings
Luna peeking through sunlight
Deal Me In Unexpected chance
Risk takers found floating bets
Gambled on water
#riverboat #tres’ #Nashville
Haiku ToiletriesBathroom selfie dare
First (and last) effort complete
Note: need longer arms
It’s a beautiful thing, watching our yards convert and conform to the winding of the world. I think this is the real new year in motion. It inspires my hopes for personal growth in a good way, in as much as the grace found in the beauty of these Spring markers…
Sweetly bells appeal
No blue states of mind remain
Smiles swell, bud to bud
Hints of lush promise
Purity tinged seduction
Beauty softly speaks
Within Magnolia dreams
Gentle folds embrace
So this sweet little miss visited me the other day…
Subtle little friends
Warming the gloomiest days
Love’s slyest bounties
She sang me his blues
One flying monkey, fallen
Washed out on new shores
The music of peace fills me