ALIVE, ON PLANET EARTH

 

Fabulous wave shot by Geoff Johnson
at UkeeTube

When the Westerly blows,
and waves crash rapturously
upon the shore,
when treetops poke their spires
up through the fog and mist
along the slopes of Wah'nah'juss,
my heart exults in wonder.

When the eagle's piercing cry
echoes across the harbour,
and the heron picky-toes
along the rocky shore
seeking her breakfast,
when dogs with loopy grins
go lolloping in and out
of the waves at Chestermans,
and surfers stand to ride, and fall,
and rise again,

When the morning sun rises
over Lemmens Inlet,
geese flying above in a wavering V,
as the sandpipers whirl and swoop as one
along the water's edge,
and ravens croak their gobble-cry,

When sunset paints the sky
with colours too fantastic to describe
as the big old fiery orb sinks down
below the horizon at day's end,

When just being alive and breathing
in this forever power-place
seems wealth beyond compare,
and I most richly blessed,
thankfulness expands my heart
to bursting, again and again,
so dearly do I cherish the beauty,
the sheer interconnected wonder
of Clayoquot Sound.

How grateful I am
to have walked this earth walk
along its beloved shores,
the song of the waves
forever advancing and retreating
in my heart;
how dearly I feel the blessing,
rich with all life's worth,
just to have another day,
like this,
alive, on planet earth.

Warren Rudd photo

I have posted an earlier poem for Sumana's prompt at What's Going On: What makes you feel most alive? because I could not say it any better than I already have. And for Jennifer at dVerse: a poem based on a poem of Place by Ted Kooser - to write about our own locale.

Truly, where I live abounds in life force, and astounding beauty. Its citizens draw from the powerful energies that surround us. We are blessed. I am forever grateful for my years here.

Black Like Me

Lokman Vural Elibol/Anadulo via Getty Images

I am called black, though my skin is really brown,
rich and warm, like coffee with cream.

I had just begun to feel comfortable in my skin
in North America, as our leaders began
to include some positive and inspiring figures
who looked like me.

But now. Oh, now.
Masked goons attack us based on how we look,
slam us into the pavement, are unmoved
by our screams, our tears, our sobbing children. 

We are entering the dark night of the soul.
When we emerge from this time,
I dream we will turn to the light,
vote away all that is doing harm,
that all of us who possess human hearts
will join together, strong in our belief
that each living being matters,
is someone of value, who deserves
to live unassaulted in what was once
called the "land of the free."

for Mary's prompt at What's Going On: Black or White. I am speaking here in the voice of a person of colour, who has my complete empathy for the cruelty and injustice so many are enduring now, for no reason other than the colour of their skin. (The title is a reference to the book of that title, written by John Howard Griffin,  who coloured his skin so he could research what it felt like to live in darker skin. It was a revelation to him.)

For years, all the way back to my teen years, since I became aware of racism and social injustice, I have worn my white skin with discomfort, knowing that it implies privilege I deserve no more than any other human on earth. For eight and a half years, I worked with the beautiful local First Nations community, in a centre for Indigenous families (children included) who were recovering from addiction issues but, even more so, from the legacy of intergenerational pain and trauma of the residential school system in Canada. 

I am all too aware that my white skin is that of the oppressor of people of colour all over the world. When Obama came to power, I felt such hope, as so many of us did. We are living with the backlash of that event right now and it is ugly. The terrorizing and brutal treatment of people of colour in the USA, the disappearing of citizens, is something I never thought I would see to this degree in North America (though racism has always been part of the story and is rising in Canada too.) Yet here we are. Hopefully, not for long. I applaud the strong voices raised in opposition, and the millions of marching feet that rise in protest. May each pair of marching feet march into the voting booth at every opportunity.

The arc of justice is long and more of us believe in equal rights for every human than those who do not.  I believe we will emerge, maybe sooner than we think, from this outrageous time, and begin working to restore and retrieve what is being lost. We live in hope.

LOVE SONG TO JANE

 

The wonderful American singer and song writer Dana Lyons has written this love song to Jane Goodall. Jane also requested he write Circle the World to honour World Peace Day. I love his songs.

I first heard Dana sing the night we closed the Peace Camp down in 1993 after a summer of blockading to save the old growth forests of Clayoquot Sound. He visits here from time to time, most recently this week.

I thought I'd share this with you, as we continue to honour Jane's amazing impact on the world. She showed what one person can do.

TOFINO MAGIC

Tofino is full of creative people - poets, writers, sculptors, artists, carvers, performance folk of every type. Tuesday night we gathered at the Common Loaf Bake Shop for a book launch of Joanna Streetly's new book of poems titled, All Of Us Hidden. Joanna asked me to talk about poetry, so I offered the following. Live music followed our presentations, and Tofino's special magic happened, as it does every time we gather together to share our love of the arts, the written word, and music.

Poetry has companioned me through my life. I remember when my first poem wrote itself. I was sitting in school in grade nine when the lines of a poem began writing itself in my head. I started writing down the words, like taking dictation. I have been writing ever since.

Poems chart our journey. They leave signposts along the way so when we are gone those who come after can read them and remember who we were in this life. Poems have channeled my joy, my gratitude, my love of the natural world and its incredible beauty, my love affair with Clayoquot Sound, and with an amazing big black wolf-dog who shared my wild wilderness heart. I have written my activism, my angst, my grief at the climate crisis and its impact on all beings – especially the beyond-human souls with whom we share this struggling planet. 

Mostly, I strive for gratitude – for life, for its beauty, for the love that has resulted in the grief I carry. I bear witness, I grieve. But I also try to leave something in my poems for readers to take away with them – some hope, some compassion, some awareness….something of beauty to shine through the darkness.

Poems don’t always have to be serious. For fifteen years I have written poems online among poets from all over the world. They love my Wild Woman poems, and all the predicaments Wild Woman got into in her more agile years. Every now and then, a funny poem arrives. I will leave you with this one, written when I was writing among some wonderful poets at a site called Imaginary Garden With Real Toads. I worked hard to keep up, as they were very good and much younger. One day this poem arrived and made them laugh.  I share it with you to show you poems can cross the whole spectrum of human emotion: from dark to light, from grief to gratitude, from despair to hope, and from tears to laughter. One of the best of those poet friends hated haiku, so I wrote this for her:

OLD FROG MAKES HASH OF HAIKU

Old frog falls in pond
reviving briefly.

Old frog sits in stupor,
finally thinks of Word.

Old frog – ancient enough
for dimness to be forgiven.

Old frog, swimming with the young fry –
Glub glub.

(Everyone loved the "glub, glub!!)

DONA NOBIS PACEM: SPEAK LOVE

 

When all the world is changing,

rearranging,

and the life we knew is struggling

to survive the wrecking ball of chance,

a frenzied kind of dance,

I walk my heart into the rainforest

to find my way,

the great trees, breathing peace,

whisper to we noisy humans

"Please find a better path

that helps us stay."

When down is up and justice

is being trampled underfoot,

what still remains?

Kindness.

Our loving hearts.

Speaking Love.
Seeing No Stranger.

Protecting our neighbours.

All that we know to be true and plain.

Marching, singing,

hearts rising in fierce knowing

that democracy must stand.

In the midst of floods and fire,

storm and warming seas,

what still endures

across the land?

Mother Earth,

in her heartbreaking beauty,

caring for her many beings,

even those who've

lost their way.

She knows that darkness may endure

for a time, but the arc

of justice is long

and, in the end,

my friend,

only what is true and gold

- only Love -

can stay.

Today we are blogging for peace with Mimi Lenox at the Blogblast for Peace 2025 whose theme is Speaking Love. Still blogging for peace, after all these years, and it is even harder to find. But not impossible, when you count the millions of marching feet asking for democracy, social justice and peace these days.

Speaking Love reminds me of Valarie Kaur's activism. She wrote See No Stranger, a Manifesto of Revolutionary Love. These days she is showing up outside ICE detention centres, trying to persuade agents to rediscover their human hearts.

I guess we'll just keep blogging till human consciousness evolves. These days, we have a long way to go. But the arc of justice is long.

KINSHIP WITH THE WORLD

Chris Lowther photo

Sometimes a heron flies over,
looking like a skinny matron
with her purse clutched under her wing.

Two eagles, wings spread,
circle lazily,
sky-surfing the thermals

and,

sometimes the same slug
shows up curled cozily
in my potted calla lilies.
I lift him with whatever is at hand,
and take him far across the yard,
hoping he will lose his way
and find another bed.

But, sure enough,
several days later,
there he is again,
so comfy in his preferred spot.

Last week, 2000 geese
landed on the local airport,
stopping all air traffic, 
and had to be gently encouraged
off the runway.

Other lives are living all around us:
check out the intricacies of that spider web
dewy in the morning sun,
complacent spider sitting in the centre
just waiting for her breakfast
to arrive.

Cosmo, big friendly Malamute,
comes smiling into the yard,
dragging his smiling owner.
He graciously accepts a treat,
then rolls onto his back and writhes
with pleasure.
Before they leave, he serenades me
with his wolfy howls,
to tell me he misses me already
before he is even gone.

Universes large and small
live out their lives
as we do, day by day,
sometimes unaware of the wonder
that abounds, when we live,
eyes open, in kinship
with the world.

for my prompt at What's Going On: Kinship With the World

ONCE IN AUTUMN

 

Once in autumn.....

Nekiah hand-stitched every leaf,

with unerring eye,

making Tree Spirit costumes

for you and your friend,

Isaac Blue Sky.

We didn't know,

back then,

just how precious

were those fleeting days

of grace,

how quickly life

was flying by,

too fast the pace.

First, you grew.

Too soon,

before I was ready,

before you were, too,

you were out of the nest

and away;

for your heartbreaks

my heart, too, would pay,

you, so young and heedless

and rash,

my hair slowly turning

the color of

silvery ash.

Too soon,

Nekiah was gone.

It was cancer.

Isaac Blue Sky's life

was forever

fractured.

Those innocent faces

up there,

those round trusting eyes

that enraptured,

those smiles that had

not yet known pain........

remind me that once,

once in autumn,

we all lived precious days

that will not,

          will not ever

                     come again.