12
Aug

Strengthen the Things That Remain - August 2015

 

From Sacred Fire, 1998, by Nancy Wood

 

Rainbows still live in the sky and green grass

is growing everywhere. Clouds have familiar shapes

and sunsets have not changed color in a long time. Thunder

still follows lightning and spring comes after winter's misery.

 

A tree is still a tree and a rock is still a rock. A warbler

sings its familiar song and coyotes howl

in disconcerting harmony. Grasshoppers still hop

 

to their own music,

bees still buzz with excitement, and squirrels

still jump like acrobats. Mountains still contain mystery

and oceans surge with eternity. Bears still sleep in winter

 

and eagles fly higher than other birds. Snakes have an affinity

for the ground, while fish

are content in water. Patterns persist,

life goes on, whatever rises will converge.

 

Do what you will, but strengthen the things that remain.

6
Jul

Be Still until the Waters Clear - July 2015

 

From War Cry on a Prayer Feather, 1979, by Nancy Wood

 

Be still until the waters clear.

Do nothing until the darkness ends.

Rest until the storm clouds pass.

Wait for winter’s breath to die.

Nature does not fight against itself

Nor does it dance when the music ends.

1
Jun

Spirit Walker - June 2015

 

Rain has returned this spring to New Mexico, Nancy's home for 30 years.

 

Spirit Walker, title poem from Spirit Walker, 1993, by Nancy Wood

 

Spirit Walker, with long legs poking out of rain clouds

Along the mesa tops,

Listen to our prayers for understanding.

Spirit Walker with strong arms embracing the wounded Earth,

We ask forgiveness for our greed.

Spirit Walker, with footsteps echoing like promises

Across the aching land,

Give Fire and Ice to purify us.

Spirit Walker, with tears that fall as Snow and Rain,

Heal our forests and our rivers,

Our homes and the hearts of all creatures.

Spirit Walker, heed the cry of every living thing

And bathe the Earth with harmony.

7
May

What I Am I Must Become - May 2015

 

What I Am I Must Become, from Hollering Sun, 1972, by Nancy Wood

 

What I am I must become.

What I see I must try to find.

What I hear I must play music to.

What I touch I must leave alone

And turn then to all reflections of myself

In trees and sacred things

That nature gives to me.

3
Apr

Why Flowers Smell The Way They Do - April 2015

 

Go bury your nose in a crabapple tree's blossoms and forget the snows of winter.

 

Why Flowers Smell the Way They Do, from Dancing Moons, 1995, by Nancy Wood

 

When flowers were first invented, they smelled like mud.

Dust shook out of their petals and no one

wanted to be around them for very long,

the rose especially. It smelled like dead leaves.

 

In those days there were order and grace

and predictability. Except for flowers,

beautiful yet unnoticed, things were what

they were intended to be. Birds were just birds and

 

Trees were just trees. Caterpillars crawled along

and the meadowlark could be counted on to sing

the way he was supposed to. Flowers refused

to smell good because they thought no one loved them.

 

So it was, for a long time. Then one day a beautiful

girl picked a wild rose and put it in her hair,

so boys would admire her as she passed by.

Sniff, sniff, they went, and turned to watch her.

 

One boy said: The smell of that wild rose makes me

want to fall in love. The other boys came closer

and smelled the rose. They all agreed. The flower

smelled sweet and made them fall in love, too.

From that day on, flowers began to smell the way they do now.

Especially the wild rose, worn in a pretty girl's hair.

Back to Top