(in a) material world

material world tree s

If I could disguise
myself as a tree—ancient,
unnoticed, unknown–

when all was wild
unruled
each day began

alive, encircled
by the present
all was strangely itself

taking refuge
without before or after
neither first nor last

accepting changes
as intrinsic
to what is

a dance
always balanced between
darkness and light

material world tree close up s

Mish, at dVerse, asked us to talk about what has been revealed to us by our present isolation.  I try to write a bit each morning and this was composed from fragments in my current notebook.

The art is from my continuing series inspired by Joan Mitchell’s trees.

stormstruck

stormstruck grid s

stormstruck magnetic

It’s clear the Oracle is feeling the world’s distress.

stormstruck close up 1s

I had a dream recently about weaving paper.  I’ve done it before, but in the dream I was using wax paper left over from monoprints (I’m low tech in my technique) and weaving painted paper through it.  I’ve been saving the wax paper images and wondering what to do with them.  I used newspaper that had been underneath my watercoloring (protecting the drawing table) and cut it into strips.  I like the interaction of layers, papers, and paint.

 

The newspaper happened to be the front pages with headlines about the Synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh in 2018.  The world seems to be falling ever deeper and deeper into a vast hole.

stormstruck close up 2s

why was
the bare sky
crying raindrunk
wind whispering
with the shadow language
of raw rusted light

blessing

blessing s

We gather together. We close our eyes, unlearning the darkness.

We are listening to what happens. When we don’t interfere, when we let go, unbe, untry.  When we release our expectations.

We hold everything as if it weighed nothing, as if it could fit into anything at all.

What we are.  Not what we think.  Not what we want.  Not what we fear.

The stillness of grace,
carried by stars on the wings
of birds.  We listen.

For a trio of prompts–Frank asked for thoughts about Thanksgiving in his #haikai challenge this week, and for thoughts about gratitude in his haibun prompt for dVerse.  Colleen  in her #TankaTuesday prompt also referred to the theme of Thanksgiving.

blessing close up s

Thanksgiving at my grandparents’ was loud and chaotic–numerous adults and sometimes 11 children vying for attention.

But we never ate any meal at their house without first becoming quiet and giving thanks.  It’s a ritual that perhaps deserves a revival.

what is lost

searching s

searching magnetic scan s

The birdlings have been lost since my last move.  I didn’t make the connection between the Oracle’s message and finding them yesterday until I started thinking about art to accompany it.

birdling 3s

Reason and bearings are still lost

birdling 2s

but my family and friends are always there

what is lost

tell me to believe
the promise of wings
threaded between star and sky

the language of voices
belonging together

we receive each other as gifts
remembering the dreams
that fill rivers with shared songs

birdling 1s

 

indigenous

indigenous comp

I am nowhere indigenous.  Born in the midwestern United States, I have moved through many other regions.  My genetics are blended and confused, my blood relations scattered.  Even within the city I have called home for 45 years I belong to no single neighborhood.  No land or culture claims me as their own.

accumulating
roots of tangled earth and air
unfixed, wandering—

I occupy each season
refilled, resampled, revived

indigenous close up s

For Frank’s haibun prompt at dVerse, considering our relationship to the word indigenous, as we celebrate both Columbus Day and the native peoples who inhabited this land long before Columbus discovered it.