I give thanks to the sun
for turning my skin
into the deep
warm hues
of my aunties,
whose hands
I admired
as they prepared
our food,
their wrists
adorned
with silver
delicately engraved
and freckled with turquoise.
-Metis
matriarch
the ivory
the keys inherited
from my childhood teacher
the hours pored into fruitless scales
up and down
it was never my forte
but it was hers
she committed herself
the tireless effort
the pencil perched in between her fingers and thumb
the cursive reminders
speed up, slow down
excruciating practice
and now i sit down to play
reminiscent
but my damaged fingers won’t cooperate with my memory
and i cannot for the life of me
play the merry melody she taught me
-you never know what you’ve got til it’s gone
Oh, What a Delight
the trees
the place we used to live
echoes
of children’s laughter
reverberate off
dilapidated walls
of the fallen treehouse
happy shouts
ring out
hide and seek
dull clanging
of sword fights
in the field
expectant stockings
giddy mornings
over hot chicolate
the slow
crunch
of gravel
under unsteady bicycle tires
the dog
lost
in the woods
happy birthdays
melt away
like warm icing
on patio boards
hungry vines
reach out
from the earth
engulfing
the place
we used
to live
consuming time
feasting on memories
Laura’s Tree
She stands
Roots descending deep into the earth, fixed here.
Nature’s breath
A thousand butterflies fluttering to the earth, take flight.
Inconsequential
Made meaningful only by proximity, fleeting fragility.
Good company
Amongst the trees and the old lady who always makes time to chat, ever present.
Stirred reverie
Quivering boughs reminisce the seasons passed, hold dear.
Steadfast homage
Breathe in the billowing petals, transcendent beauty.
Mother Earth
Our generous host
She offered everything
But we wanted more
We reached deep down into her being and pulled from within her
Drained her aquifers
Extracted oil
Mined metals and stone
We sold her soul for wealth
Sold our own by taking far more than we need
Without thanks
Who could blame her when she demonstrates her majestic rage
Still we refuse to listen
She’s fighting us
The same way our bodies fight an infection
With fever and chills
-What have we done?
i stared at my body
took in all of her beautiful imperfections
and thanked her
for entrusting me with these children
–gratitude
she walks into the night
wraps the darkness around herself like a blanket
lifts her head to the sky and speaks with the stars
shuts her eyes and listens to the wings of the owl
she smells the dew settling into the earth
she feels the coyotes cry in her soul
connected with the night
she breathes deeply and fills her lungs with peace
-a moth to no flame