There are those who hear the voice of wheels – February 2021

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

 

There are those who hear the voice of wheels

And call it music.

And those who hear a symphony

In butterfly wings.

There are those who ride a highway

And call it beauty.

And those who follow the straight line

Of a spider’s silver thread.

There are those who define living

As existence only

And those who cannot live

Except to define existence first.

There are those who run in circles

And those who simply run

And those who find movement

In the greatest stillness.

Go one way or the other.

Fight for wheels or butterfly wings.

Travel on highways or spider threads.

Take up the cause of movement.

Bury stillness with the dead.

Abandon home for the popular place.

Kill the roots by girdling the tree.

Those who know the greatest comfort

Take not the greatest ease.

Those who prosper most

Prosper more with less.

Who speaks for animals who cannot talk? – September 2019

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

 

Who speaks for animals who cannot talk?

Who sees for flowers which are blind?

Who guards the river which has but one course?

Who represents the mountain in time?

Who comes here to argue for the life of beavers?

Who will tell of the importance of snails?

Who has seen the mantis shed his skin?

Who believes in butterfly wings?

I am nature’s advocate

Ten million birds

Ten million trees

Ten million animals

Ten million fish

Are mine.

I will fight you in this room

And out of it.

I will dare you to define

Progress

On the face of a dime.

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?