Love

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.

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.

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.

A Woman’s Lesson – May 2014

 

This poem was chosen by India Wood, Nancy’s daughter, in honor of Mother’s Day.

 

A Woman’s Lesson, from Spirit Walker, 1993, by Nancy Wood

 

A woman’s lesson is a simple lesson:
Whatever life asks, answer with love.

 

A woman’s lesson is a wise lesson:
Whenever conflict threatens, go forth in harmony.

 

A woman’s lesson is an enduring lesson:
Whatever is taken from you, give back in generosity.

 

A woman’s lesson is a gradual lesson:
Whenever there is a storm, remain a calm center.

 

A woman’s lesson is a courageous lesson:
Whenever there is despair, sow the seed of hope.

 

A woman’s lesson is a practical lesson:
Wherever there is dryness, go and get the rain.