The Story of a Flower – May 2021

From Spirit Walker, 1993, by Nancy Wood

The Story of a Flower

 

In the season of wild strawberries

I came from the earth as a flower

High on a hill above my village, with only

The Eagle, the Buffalo, the Bear and the Butterfly

To watch the petals of my spirit unfold.

 

The Eagle spoke first. He said:

Sister; you will never have wings like me,

Except in the pathways of your dreams,

Yet you will fly to the top of the sky

Because I give you the Gift of Courage.

 

The Buffalo spoke next. He said:

Sister; you will never survive a long time like me,

Except on the trail of your memories,

Yet you will see a thousand winters go by

Because I give you the Gift of Endurance.

 

The Bear spoke next. He said:

Sister; you will never know the secrets

Of the Four-Legged Animals, since you are only a flower,

Yet the knowledge of all creatures is yours

Because I give you the Gift of Wisdom.

 

The Butterfly spoke next. She said:

Sister, you believe you are very important,

Because the creatures have given their gifts to you,

Yet here on this hill you will always be at home

Because I give you the Gift of Humility.

 

So I have lived for many seasons,

Among the Eagle, the Buffalo, the Bear and the Butterfly,

Watching the birds go by, speaking to rain and sky.

My colors have been the colors of the rainbow.

My beauty has given joy to all who see me.

 

To bloom even when there is no rain

Requires the Courage of the Eagle.

To last through the heavy snows of winter

Requires the Endurance of the Buffalo.

To understand the importance of all seasons

Requires the Wisdom of the Bear.

But to rejoice when my blossoms die

Requires only the Butterfly’s Humility.

 

A long time I have lived with you – February 2020

From Many Winters, 1974, by Nancy Wood

 

A long time I have lived with you

And now we must be going

Separately to be together.

Perhaps I shall be the wind

To blur your smooth waters

So that you do not see your face too much.

Perhaps I shall be the star

To guide your uncertain wings

So that you have direction in the night.

Perhaps I shall be the fire

To separate your thoughts

So that you do not give up.

Perhaps I shall be the rain

To open up the earth

So that your seed may fall.

Perhaps I shall be the snow

To let your blossoms sleep

So that you may bloom in spring.

Perhaps I shall be the stream

To play a song on the rock

So that you are not alone.

Perhaps I shall be a new mountain

So that you always have a home.

I remember you when – October 2019

FromĀ Many Winters, 1974, by Nancy Wood

 

I remember you when

The tame rose sleeps

Between the jaws of winter.

I remember you when

The humming insects mother

The newborn leaves of spring.

I remember you when

The argument of frogs becomes

The laughing song of summer.

I remember you when

I hear my corn begin to grow

And beauty crowds my life.

Looking at Mountains – August 2019

From Dancing Moons, 1995, by Nancy Wood

 

Mountains that are looked at have a particular grace,

some are rounded and gentle, others have a wildness

of spirit, the sharp rock face of invincibility.

Still others beckon with deceptive calm, luring the unwary

with their raw beauty, heads buried in clouds, sunlight

dancing on meadows like sky fingers. The great rock god

Of the mountains sleeps with one eye open to catch eagles

and elk, wind and rainbows, the strong of limb who climb

those peaks because a mountain lives inside them.

 

Mountains that are looked at look back with the pleasure

of old women locked in the gaze of new admirers,

so glad for attention, so wary of strangers. Mountains

That are looked at increase in beauty from so much looking

and live on in memory long after we are gone from them,

remembering the hint of immortality there and the way

We were possessed by rock. Mountains that are looked at

look back with authority and the promise of tomorrow,

which is why some people die for them.