All as it was in this place timeless – January 2016

From Hollering Sun, 1972, by Nancy Wood

 

All as it was in this place timeless.

All as it was between the human soul and the earth

For there is no difference between

The life of a man and the life

Of all growing things.

Who is to say if a man

Shall not be a tree instead?

We pray to all of nature and do it no harm.

These are our brothers

All men and all animals and all trees.

Some part of ourselves

Is in earth and sky and everywhere.

It shall continue

As long as nature follows its own purpose.

It shall continue

As long as we know what we are doing here.

 

The voice that beautifies the land – December 2015

From Dancing Moons, 1995, by Nancy Wood

 

The Voice That Beautifies the Land

is the insistent call of the dove in spring,

or the movement of rock on the mesa top,

In answer to a rising cloud of butterflies.

 

The Voice That Beautifies the Land

is the squeak of corn growing high in summer,

or the soft kiss of water touching sand

Along the riverbank, where locusts demand to be heard.

 

The Voice That Beautifies the Land

is the whisper of dry leaves dancing in the fall,

or the cry of geese in arrowhead formation,

Saying farewell to the rivers that fed them.

 

The Voice That Beautifies the Land

is the murmur of snowflakes in winter,

or the creak of old trees rising to catch them

As the raven announces the shadow of spring.

 

The Voice That Beautifies the Land

is the chorus of clouds bumping into one another,

or the crack of ice crying out for sun

as the turtle sings of a new season in the mud.

 

Connections – November 2015

From Sacred Fire, 1998, by Nancy Wood

 

I am all things, connected to all time and all places.

I am the undernourished bones of aged men.

I am the new blood of unborn babies.

I am a virgin searching for a lover.

I am a seed, waiting to become corn. I am ancient Fire,

cleansing the ravaged Earth. I am Ice, begging for

replenishment. I am all things, connected to

all animals and birds. See me running with buffalo?

See me soaring with eagles? What they are, I am.

Where they go, I have been before.

When they die, a part of me dies also.

When they are born, my life begins anew.

Out of stone-cold earth, I have become a flame.

 

My horse took me down the life-giving road – October 2015

 

Nancy Wood poem poster 7: My horse took me down the life-giving road

 

From Hollering Sun, 1972, by Nancy Wood

 

My horse took me down the life-giving road

Drawing his breath as he went

His breath of strong spirit

His breath of power to plow and to pull.

But now he is old

And his breath is of feathers and corn.

I add to his breath

The breath of my own

And pray to his old age of riches.

 

Strengthen the Things That Remain – August 2015

 

From Sacred Fire, 1998, by Nancy Wood

 

Rainbows still live in the sky and green grass

is growing everywhere. Clouds have familiar shapes

and sunsets have not changed color in a long time. Thunder

still follows lightning and spring comes after winter’s misery.

 

A tree is still a tree and a rock is still a rock. A warbler

sings its familiar song and coyotes howl

in disconcerting harmony. Grasshoppers still hop

 

to their own music,

bees still buzz with excitement, and squirrels

still jump like acrobats. Mountains still contain mystery

and oceans surge with eternity. Bears still sleep in winter

 

and eagles fly higher than other birds. Snakes have an affinity

for the ground, while fish

are content in water. Patterns persist,

life goes on, whatever rises will converge.

 

Do what you will, but strengthen the things that remain.