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.

6
Mar

Solitude - March 2015

 

This poem reminded Nancy's daughter Kate of the solitude Nancy needed to write her books.

 

Solitude, from Spirit Walker, 1993, by Nancy Wood

 

Do not be afraid to embrace the arms

of loneliness.

Do not be concerned with the thorns

of solitude.

Why worry that you will miss something?

 

Learn to be at home with yourself

without a hand to hold.

Learn to endure isolation

with only the stars for friends.

 

Happiness

comes from understanding unity.

Love

arrives on the footprints of your fear.

Beauty

arises from the ashes of despair.

Solitude

brings the clarity of still waters.

Wisdom

completes the circle of your dreams.

4
Feb

Why the Great Spirit Made Hands - February 2015

 

Here is an unusual love poem by Nancy, chosen for February, the month of Valentine's Day.

 

Why the Great Spirit Made Hands, from Shaman's Circle, 1996, by Nancy Wood

 

The Great Spirit made hands before he made

eyes or feet, so people could learn to hold

one another. Hands were useful for touching

the hard ribs of trees or the soft tongues of flower petals.

Hands discovered the dry uncertainty of snakes, the

slipperiness of fish, the mystery of feathers. Hands found

Other hands and clasped together to embrace the oncoming world,

unafraid. Two pairs of hands, burned by fire and cooled

by water, felt their way along unfamiliar paths and then

reached out and found they needed one another

to make a home in the wilderness of their minds.

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