Love

Love – September 2017

From Spirit Walker, 1993, by Nancy Wood

 

Listen to the song! Jen Myzel, a singer/songwriter who “sings of personal and planetary healing,” has created a song of this poem. Thank you, Jen!

 

For us, my love,

The faraway moon laughed

And breathed a new song

For all the earth to hear.

 

For us, my love,

The stars deserted the sky

And became a silver pathway

To our dreams.

 

For us, my love,

Time made a ladder out of grass

To show us to our happiness.

 

For us, my love,

Beauty encircled two lives and

Love created one horizon.

Night Fire – November 2016

From Dancing Moons, 1995, by Nancy Wood

 

The cold of winter makes a fire in my heart and fills my ears

with the music of the meadowlark. Here in my house, made

of the memory of summer and the desire for green grass,

I know that loneliness will never kill me.

Here in a room filled with sorrow for all the world in pain,

I know that fear can never blind me from seeing

eagles rising from the ashes of my fire.

 Asleep in a bed covered with longing for spring,

I know that anger never soothed my heart nor

silence solved the problems of my world.

In my dreams I see a perfect little flower, and then I know

that love will heal most anything,

my loneliness included.

Eternal Song – October 2016

Nancy Wood poem poster 15: Eternal Song

 

From Wild Love, 1996, by Nancy Wood (unpublished)

 

Our love is what the universe
is all about.  The quickening
of fire.  The triumph over dust.
The eagerness of dawn.  The circles
that seem endless because
we cannot see their origins.

Oh, pure love, dangerous as combat,
with its obligation to survive,
what planet chose this?  What stars
dropped down to light my dead fire,
and in the flame created mystery?

Do you see perfection in the sky,
and do you know that our new love
is merely one eternal song?

Commitment – September 2015

 

From Shaman’s Circle, 1996, by Nancy Wood

 

Before we met, you and I were halves unjoined except

in the wide rivers of our minds. We were each other’s

Distant shore, the opposite wings of birds, the other half

of a shell that keeps the clam from falling out.

We did not know each other then, did not know our determination

to keep alive the cry of one riverbank to the other.

We were apart, yet connected in our ignorance of each other,

like two apples sharing a common tree. Remember?

 

I knew you existed long before you understood my desire

to join my loneliness to yours. Our paths

Collided long enough for our indecision to be swallowed up

by the greater needs of love. When you came to me,

The sun surged toward the earth and the moon escaped from darkness

to bless the union of two spirits so alike that your

Pain became my discomfort. In the hour when I stood naked,

You were there to play the drum of life for us.

 

Beloved partner, keeper of my heart’s odd secrets, clothed

in summer blossoms so the icy hand of winter

Never touches us, I thank your patience. Our joining

is like a tree to earth, a cloud to sky, and even more:

We are the reason the world can laugh on its battlefields

and rise from the ashes of its selfishness to hear me say,

In this time, this place, this way, I loved you best of all.

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.