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.

days end

days end s

tree branches
brush the sky–brooms of
green and gold
sweeping the
cloud dust out of reach—billows
following the wind

 in westward
waves that transcribe the
ruddy hues
left behind
by the last traces of sun–
the shadows deepen

 into shapes
that mingle, become
lost in each
other—the
remnants of the day yielding
to sudden darkness

days end close up s

Frank at dVerse asked us to write poems with descriptive detail, that “motivates the reader to remember the poem and read it again.”  This made me realize how little I use descriptive detail as a poetic device.

days end landscape s

I’m not even sure what I wrote really qualifies, but it’s closer than most of my work.  And I also realized this kind of poetry is very hard to illustrate, at least the way I illustrate my poems.  I dug into my archives and combined a watercolor and some monoprints I did a few years ago to try to get the same feeling.  You can see the components above and below.

days end mandala s

days end rice paper s

 

Journey

journey s

Imagine a world spinning green–
imagine standing under a tree,
beginning a journey
filled with the sky, an endless
searching of the horizon
for a way out of sorrow,

a constant companion–sorrow,
too, follows this path, like the green
stretching to the horizon–
but grief can rest in the shade of a tree,
above roots that touch endless
other wayfarers, merging together each journey–

thoughts turn into themselves, and the journey
becomes slippery with a sorrow
that slithers from an endless
dark place—hidden from the green,
waiting in corridors, like a tree
searching for the sun on the horizon–

wayfarer s

and yet each morning the horizon
opens again with light, and the journey
awakens and takes flight with the birds in the tree–
to come out from behind the sorrow,
to see instead the green
against the blue sky that holds the promise, endless

transformation , endless
colors that sparkle the horizon,
that follow the patterns of green,
that follow the journey
of what began in sorrow
into the enfolding branches of a tree–

a tree that shelters, a tree
that becomes a refuge to endless
migrations of grief, loss, sorrow–
steps taken from horizon to horizon,
into the unknown terrain of every journey–
out of the shadows into a land of green–

Imagine a tree on the horizon–
imagine an endless dream, a mapless journey—
all the secret songs of sorrow turning into fertile fields of green

A sestina for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.  Sestina is the current featured poetic form at dVerse, introduced by Victoria.

green s2

Looking into my past archives, I only found one previous sestina, which also has a hue of sadness, but in red.  Green is much more hopeful.

And I’ve been dreaming of trees.