Presenting the poetry, books, and photographs of Nancy Wood, 1936-2013
From Hollering Sun, 1972, by Nancy Wood
Earth woman with hands
That shape the bread of time.
Earth woman with
Pumpkin-seed earrings and
Bracelets of wild plum.
Your house is made of summer.
Your children are the crops
Of all good seasons
Growing strong
In the house of earth woman
Who weaves the thread of life.
From Shaman’s Circle, 1996, by Nancy Wood
Whatever you become, my child, may it be rooted in grace.
Whatever your path through life,
may it offer you steepness and rough places, so that you do not become
complacent. Nothing is owed to you, but everything is available to you,
Even the decision to do nothing and to travel nowhere.
It’s up to you to decide
whether to follow the wisdom of our ancestors, or to pursue
the cheap solutions of the world. Your courage will arise
If you call it by name, just as love will find its way into your heart, in time.
My child, I cannot shoulder your mistakes
in order to keep you free from pain,
but I can open your eyes to beauty, if you will only take the time.
New being, new citizen of the world, new carrier
of cloud wisdom and moonstones, new
flame of the universe, new eyes of animals
too old to see beyond their footprints, new repetition
Of the old ideas that people thought had died long ago,
we stand before you, ready to protect your small
breath of life, ready to teach you songs, ready to
help you plow the fields cluttered with our mistakes. Your
Recent journey affirms our faith in ancient circles. You are
the voice of us who tried to change the world. You are
the continuity of seasons and migrations, the best
or worst of all that has gone before. New being,
The ancestors are depending on you to surprise them. Little one,
our prayers for you come with love and heartbreak.
The world you enter is dangerous and filled with
imbalance. Knowledge comes from experience, not from
Easy answers. Resist those who would have you blindly follow them,
dear child of buffalo and hawks, ladybugs and fireflies. Turn instead
to the rhythm of waves, the pattern of grass, the shape of clouds,
the music of raindrops, and the color of autumn leaves. Strong
Mountains and saplings await you. The tongues of animals are anxious
to speak to you and the river is eager to teach you to dance. Learn
from the vagaries of winds, the honking of geese, the dance
of trembling leaves, and the way that shadows mystify.
New being, this is all you will need to be at home in the world.
New being, this is all you will need to recognize your song.
The hearts of mountains
and the hearts of women
Are both the same. They beat to
an old rhythm, an old song.
Mountains and women
are made from the sinew of the rock.
Mountains and women
are home to the spirits of the earth.
Mountains and women
are created with beauty all around.
Mountains and women
embrace the mystery of life.
Mountains give patience to women.
Women give fullness to mountains.
Celebrate each mountain, each woman.
Sing songs to mountains and to women.
Dance for them in your dreams.
The spirit of mountains and of women
Will give courage to our children
Long after we are gone.
May you have life, my children of the sun. May you rise as smoke rises,
and spread yourselves on the wind. In our house, you are always welcome.
In our prayers, you will always hear your name spoken with reverence.
In you is the continuation of the world, both made and unmade. Soon you
must go, for your roots are growing, and your branches are reaching out. Soon
your wings must unfold, so you can stand at the edge of the cliff, learning
How to fly by yourself. You are free, my children of the sun, released from
your familiar place. Our thoughts go with you. Our songs are sung for you.
Our dances are intended to purify your heart. Please, now go.