There are no dark times – January 2021

From Many Winters, 1974, by Nancy Wood

 

There are no dark times.

There are only people with

sawdust in their eyes.

No wonder they look at

the great rolling land and see

only doors and windows.

No wonder they look at

the tall mountains and see

only a way to make them tame.

No wonder they look at

the endless sky and see

only a journey to the moon.

There are no dark times.

There are only moments which

are discolored like

sand which is wet with rain.

There are only moments which

give pain like

the sting of a bumblebee.

There are only moments which

are as cruel as

the death of an eagle by a gun.

There are no dark times.

I know this because

Tomorrow receives the best in time

Or else it would not come.

The earth is all that lasts – December 2020

From Sacred Fire, 1998, by Nancy Wood

 

The Earth is all that lasts.

We who have been asleep for years

return to plant seeds in abandoned gardens.

We summon the rain and beg for the sun

to release its energy to our care.

 

The Earth is all that lasts.

We who were flattened by our inability

to rise above the wreckage of the past

are eating shadows

in order to stay alive.

 

The Earth is all that lasts.

We who were invisible, except

to those with similar vision,

stand here possessed by our old lives.

We are unwilling to disappear from our origins.

We have replaced shame with serenity,

doubt with desire.

Our skin is bursting with new muscle.

We are one with snowmelt and with Fire.

The Fire of Life – March 2020

From Wild Love, 1996 (unpublished), by Nancy Wood

 

Without love the world would not last, nor would flowers bloom nor

the sun have a reason to burst between the thighs of night.

The fire of life burns on battlefields

and in the misery of souls struggling for food.  It smolders

even when darkness devours consideration and hatred ravages

the innocence of children.

Love means yes and love means why not

and love means the fire of life,

burning brightly long after the universe ends.

I would like to be a tree – October 2018

 

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

 

I would like to be a tree

but you would cut me down.

I would like to be a river

but you would build a dam.

I would like to be a bird

but you would poison what I eat.

I would like to be a deer

but you would shoot me for my meat.

I would like to be a fish

but you would catch me in your net.

I would like to be a coyote

but you would want me for my skin.

I would like to be a grizzly bear

but you would kill me because I’m rare.

I would like to be a flower

but you would pick me to take home.

I would like to be what I am.

Is there any hope for that?

Grief’s Companion: War – November 2017

From Shaman’s Circle, 1996, by Nancy Wood

 

The death of children amidst the cross fire of ideas is evil’s

grandest gesture. Not even the loss of love nor a

summer without flowers creates a grief as deep

As the theft of children’s laughter. No horror speaks as loudly

as the final cries of children, who, like birds,

seek to spread their wings even when the sky bleeds

Dead dreams. In these dark moments, the Earth’s great heart

 

Stops beating. In the void that evil leaves behind, a question

arises: If fools make war on innocence,

then who becomes grief’s companion?

 

A single shaft of sunlight, falling on a drop of blood. A bird

rising higher than danger. A blade of grass, defiantly green

after fire wipes clean the face of desire. But most of all,

Music created by children’s tears.