Nature is healing Music is Nature Music is healing
I grew up in Washington State; my mother played piano and sang, and my dad was an artist. Born during WWII, I seem to have absorbed a deep longing for peace in this world, and music has been a part of this longing. As an elder now with a long musical history, at seven I played accordion, then trombone through school. In my early teens I made up tunes on the piano, and bought my first guitar.
Most of my early years we lived in Yakima and went to the Congregational (now United) Church. Gary Puckett--later with Gary Puckett and the Union Gap--and his family also went there. I was very moved around age eight, sitting with my family at the church Christmas program in dimmed light, listening to Gary play "Star of the East" on his clarinet. Then at 13 I was listening to Beethoven's 6th Symphony on the radio and had a deep experience of how music reaches into our souls, at the same time bringing healing to our bodies and hearts. Sometimes at night I'd make up tunes on piano I heard as possible beginnings of a symphony. Then I'd go to bed and keep humming them.
In college I began classical guitar and have played it ever since. I've played piano, french horn dulcimer, recorder and still play mandolin and bouzouki. In the 1970's I took classical mandolin and took lessons in folk mandolin from Jody Stecher. I took classical guitar from Curt Dunphy, who had studied with Venezuelan guitarist Alirio Diaz. Important musical influences in early life were my mother playing piano, hearing Marian Anderson in person, and classical music.
In the 1960's I loved the resurgence of folk music and heard Ravi Shankar in person. I attended concerts by Carlos Montoya, Harry Belafonte and Joan Baez. Other influences were The New Lost City Ramblers, the Balfa Brothers, John Jacob Niles, Yusuf/Cat Stevens, the Paul winter Consort, k d lang, and The Band. Other favorites are Tracey Chapman, Bruce Cockburn, and Jeremy Dutcher. I was quite enthralled hearing the old folksongs brought through the work of Alan Lomax, and old recordings of NW Pacific coastal Indigenous people singing traditional music, made by Marius Barbeau. In the late 60's I was in Tehran for a couple months and acquired a love of Iranian music.
first instrument
I started writing songs in my mid twenties and when I lived in rural NE Washington State I played and sang in a string band, the Stranger Creek Minstrels. My interest in old timey music was begun in college with The New Lost City Ramblers and Seattle’s Tall Timber String Band. Then that grew at my sessions with Jody Stecher.
I attended the first two Festivals of Fiddle Tunes in the late ’70s in Port Townsend. There I spent a lovely evening in a group singing shape note hymns, led by Jody Stecher. At the festival I played in a band led by Alice Gerrard. Some evenings a few of us would play Cajun music with Dewey Balfa and Mark Savoy; I’ll never forget the 2nd year, after Dewey had lost his two brothers (part of the band) he and I ran into each other on the lawn there and just hugged–I felt his loss deeply.
When in Seattle for awhile I busked a few times and sang at a cafe in the Pike Place Market and at Mamma’s Restaurant. For a time I was in a women’s band: Veils of Illusion.
Veils of Illusion
sitting on the log where “Warm Wind” came to me
singing with others
Another Seattle band I was in was SHE; we decided to make a cassette tape of our songs and hired Seattle musician Steven Halpern to record us. I was so fascinated with his own mystical music that it inspired my later recordings with me doing all the vocals and instrumentals.
Then back on the land we formed another women’s band, Dishpan Hands, and played for weddings, dances, and went to Seattle to perform for the International Women’s Day celebration there in 1982. We joined the Musicians’ Union and had a contract playing for school kids. In the bands we played some of my songs.
As I wanted to live rurally, and knew I was not cut out for being on the road, late nights and city life, I was happy living with and being inspired by deer, coyotes, birds, forests, frogs and crickets–and playing with other musicians when the opportunities came. The music of Nature has always been healing for me. When in the mountains my heart feels at home; I have loved skiing hiking, and backpacking in them. Here in Nelson there are mountains (not at great heights) every direction one looks.
For about 14 years I played french horn with the Woodlands orchestra at Kettle Falls, WA. This was a great experience to be able to have in our rural area. After I immigrated to Canada and lived near Nelson, BC, I sang in a women’s group–the Images Ad Hoc Singers. We sang at various events in the area and had a lot of fun at out practices. I also was in a women’s group called the Peppermill Bluegrass Band, which opened for shows by the Weird Sisters, the Be Good Tanyas, and for Kinnie Starr. We also performed at the first music festival held at the Doukhobor retreat at Whatshan Lake BC.
Peppermill Bluegrass Band
After hoping to find a sufi guide for many years, I was initiated in 2002. Then later I was certified as a dance leader with the Dances of Universal Peace, which was the inspiration of sufi teacher Murshid Samuel Lewis (SAM). We formed a dance leader group here and led dances regularly until the Covid era. I have created some dances/songs which are on the Dance website. My sufi name is Khabira. For the last 25 years much of the music in my life has been playing and singing with others either in sufi gatherings or at the dances. I am so pleased that the larger stream of sufism of which I am part–Chisti— is one which strongly emphasizes music as a valued spiritual practice.
Playing Greek Bouzouki
On youtube some of the songs have Arabic Words, as in the Zikr group. Zikr is a spiritual practice of remembrance. These tunes all have dance movements to them. For the last sixteen years I’ve had my kayak (had a canoe before that), and some of the zikr tunes came as I was paddling out in beautiful places.
The song “Ahura Mazda” is in the ancient Persian Avestan language and refers to the Divine and aspects of the Divine. In the “HU Lullaby” HU in sufi tradition points to all of sufism, meaning ‘love.’
In the group of Wazaif (sacred names) for healing I give a meaning of each word as the piece begins. ‘Allah’ means (al-) everything and (la) nothing; it is not a gendered word but includes all. It does not mean ‘god’ and it derives from the verb waliha, to love madly. Allah is the (divine) Essence.
Candace at Mt. Robson, BC, ’98
The songs in total came to me over a 55 year period. The recordings I did over the last 26 years. In the final collection are pieces which are recorded to be bilateral–with some sound alternating into the listener’s left and right ears. These will be designated as ‘B-L.’ In my years as a clinical counselor I had advanced training in EMDR, which can help resolve disturbing memories or issues through the bilateral stimulation of the brain.
Notes on tunes: “HU Lullaby” refers in part to my experiences with shamanism. “Road to Lares” was inspired by an adventure in Peru with a friend–to Lares Hot Springs and back. On this treacherous road high in the Andes there were many markers where crosses were left to mark a death. I actually decided it would be fine if I died on that road, as I was already so marveled being in the Andes. “Southwood” arose when I was outside with my mandolin and envisioning feng shui. “Soul’s Flight” came from my grief when a sufi couple suddenly lost their adult son. “Through Granada” reflects memories of 1967 when hitchhiking through Spain with a woman from the American art school I was attending in Paris. On spring vacation when in Andalusia we got a ride with two friendly brothers in their old pickup. As we went through Granada in the dark of night we did not get to see the Alhambra. So years later came the tune. “Blue Heron Zikr” came into my hands and the bouzouki strings as I stood on my deck above the river. “River Zikr” and “Thunder Zikr” both were inspired from kayaking the river. “Branwen’s Raven” is a musical tribute to the ancient Celtic tales in the Mabinogion. “Warm Wind” just floated in as I was playing the guitar outside on the Summer Solstice. “Ya Halim” is a sufi calling to Nature into one’s soul. “Kali Durge” pays homage to the Hindu Mother deity who was brave and vicious enough to save the Earth from outer destruction. “Corona Borealis” (crown in north) I named for a night many years ago when I was walking and gazing at that constellation thinking of our ancestors; Theseus (or the goddess Venus) had given Ariadne a crown, and when Theseus later deserted her, the crown was transferred to the sky. “Dawa Dzong” refers to Tibetan and other monasteries visited by Lama Anagarika Govinda.
Link to my Youtube channel, click here. The music on youtube I call ‘homemade’ as I used my own recording equipment–no professional recording person or studio was involved. I did the best I could–not perfect by any means; I just hope some of the songs may touch some listeners. If anyone would like a copy of lyrics for any songs, I hope to get those ready for some selections.
The wonders and teachings of Mother Earth flow constantly to us.
After the Hundredth Monkey
Our BEING Earth, breathing Her, Brings our healing, Her healing; Earth's wondrous song opens us to Her divine inspiration So that more and more Her energy forms our will; As we live aware of Life's gift to soul We cannot but live for Her health, Her mysterious creations, and for protecting Her; As we are touched by Her magnificence With devotion we give our all. (for Earth Day, 2023)
West Kootenays, BC, Canada
HER SONG
My heart breaks at trials too big to handle In the lap of the Divine One is where I sit weeping.
She, the Fountain of Compassion rests her chin upon my head Her song manifests rushing streams winding down green mountains Her soft sweet song brings forth trees quivering in the breeze then deer, small creatures insects, butterflies-- birds join the singing All fill Earth with Life
Held in this Miracle I begin to breathe This Seat of Life sings into me all that I need for being: All encompassing comfort, She is the ever-accessible Healing.
SOMETHING IS BREAKING
The wealthy leader is deprived and cannot smile They cannot smile, the dying poor Across this globe's belly Broken chain links sprawl out over parched Earth My tongue despises the taste of food Now that the truth be told it finds its only function is To let out my scream
Something is breaking With a roar that could deafen us Something we have betrayed With a lie
Who has vision anymore To love? How do we find love-meaning In face of extinction Of all love has worked? (1974)
BIRTHOF LIGHT
Each heart a living prayer Breathed into being spiraling out From Divine Mystery
How sweet as all these prayer-lights Dance together in glittering Choreography: a flock of seabirds Dancing one intention!
Singing their soul-reaching song For which we have all been longing For which we have all been longing.
TURN
Winter invisibly changes things Seeds under snow That wait to grow mutate into hidden shoots
Love on the winds of season's turn Transforms by cues to doubt
Autumn's bright treasures turn into poems written full of hope Torn up with newspaper pages To stack the winter fire
Passion burnt up What was written Catches flame Warms the room.
IN FOG
A foggy January night We walked down the hill Off to the side in dim light In the snow there they were
Mellow cows Wrapped in a soft glow Of the distant house light
Then despite the fog We knew where we were
And I smiled but nobody saw, Nobody saw I was held Enraptured in that meadow.
NAVIGATING ALONE
Navigating alone, crazily I, a sole fisher-person On a sea with neither stars Nor compass,
Life is now too big In the night I long to hold you With sublime tenderness From that place which is The fountain of compassion,
Navigating alone I carve Each new moon that's come On a branch behind which I discern your being, An unreachable beacon.
GHOSTS WALK IN
Ghosts walk in The more years I gather The more ghosts hang out In the back room and wait To walk in here
Faces in familiar places Pleading, accusing, Asking impossible questions
And so this being is not just I But a melding of many Each within our interconnecting Circles--all these circles Within bigger circles
C'mon ghosts, Let us dance under the stars And let our laughter Our tears, write new constellations In the swirling dome of sky
May those stars bejewel The nets of our circles, Shimmering always, all ways.
JAQUELINE
At fourteen married off To and older man Who mistreated you
Pregnant soon after In that little West Texas town
A big show came through You saw the ad: one hundred dollars To the volunteer who will be The first woman To parachute our of a plane
You didn't tell your mother Got into that plane Hiding any nervousness Before all those spectators Jumped out with that parachute Made it safely to dusty ground Took the hundred dollars Divorced, raised your son Got a job in New Orleans
You had no idea then Your great great great grand- father had been the renowned Poet/visionary of his age.
OMNIPOESIE
I love the tongue of these lands That speaks so well of their spirit: Bella Coola, Klickitat Mukiltio, Shushwap Kamiah, Wenatchee, Kittitas, Tum-Tum Ohanapecosh, Tahola Chinook, Wapato Moclips, Osoyoos, Umtanum
Names that bounce up from Earth Herself And leave bubbles dancing 'round my heart Nakusp, Okanagan Bella Bella, Dosewallips Kitsap, Wallowa Tatoosh, Walla Walla Chelan, Hamma Hamma
When I die, O Spirit, let me go beyond With such magic ringing in my being Kleena Kleen, Kootenay Tillamook, Skeena Humptulips, Yakama Kokanee, Quallicum My very bones must beat time Against rocks along rivers from which These sounds have sprung Again again and again.
BEFORE BEING
Before being Is Light, is Love Love blooms delicately into Breath Breath's rhythms give birth to sound Sound's vibrations coalesce matter
Matter infused with Love, with thunderous impulse creates Life Life, seeking its Source Becomes Love.
Kootenay River, forest fire smog, BC (from kayak)
THE BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE
The book of knowledge Did not tell me even where To look to find it; I read it all up and down, Its snug pages complete With photographs Diagrams Tables Definitions Explanations
I still did not know what was At the root of things Or what made them grow, Or how to tell my greatest thought, Or how to smile a smile big enough For what I feel... How to offer a love that's real;
These I did not find In the Book of Knowledge.
KILL ONESELF INTO LOVE
Nausea warns the species has pushed To the edge The possibilities of violence
Deep inside each heart Is a place where Love Is more powerful than any Command to kill
Where recognizing "I as Thou, Thou as I" Can lead to embrace
In each of the pools of blood Mounting in numbers daily Lies a seed of compassion
Blood of the womb Sacred Life blood Kiss of Healing
In each blood curdling scream Of sudden irredeemable loss Resides the seed of heart-stirring Recognition
Reconciliation, compassion, the seed of the song of Ahimsa That knows itself as no result Of destruction or killing But as the crushing of the Shell around the heart
Toward all joining in one voice Singing our unified vision Of a world on which it be safe To live; for that is our only choice.
MEDICINE WATERS
Now I have laid bare, Taken your medicine In the white foam Of your thundering river Now I have become you Now I have been blessed Now replenished I go
Into the unknown On my way home On my way home.
IN THE BELLY OF THE WHALE
All at once comes darkness The world turns over A roaring noise begins furiously Gaia shakes and opens As seas rise to a crescendo Gathered all together then crash down Like a battering ram smashing everything Everyone, until all is obliterated-- Sky, land, cities, forests, peoples, Plants, animals... There is darkness Terrifying noise Deadly smoke And ice cold
It is as if in that flood we are all swallowed up In the whale's belly where we Replay this devastation over and over For nearly twelve thousand years As envy, greed, fear and hatred Feed our species' hunger Hunger for the Golden Age We know not how to recapture
In our longing to re-member Re-member Who we are.
Kayaking, Kootenay River
HER BREATH
She with her Breath, Her bellowing winds Her penetrating eye, Her thundering clouds Mighty moving oceans
She who began this life miracle Bringing forth all Gaia's realms and wonders And changing mysterious forces
Accomplishes all--before being And shall long after; Bountiful Mother Who holds all secrets, all manifestation
Pours them out from Her breasts Like the milk and honey of our desires, Allows that we are led into this wonder.
SANDS
Fragments of myself are Forever dancing before your image: Doing Tai Chi on the cold sand Before the roaring ocean,
Ocean of my heart that flowed With primal blood Stilled to silence Upon the flat expanse Of shining gray beach; Fragments of myself forever dance Beside your tears--
The sun that never stops setting Rests like a promise upon the sea Like the jewel you are to me.
IN THE REAL
In the Real there is no judgment Neither bad nor good exists Forgiveness has no limitations So visitor, do not hesitate The tavern door is ever open You need not guard yourself All will give welcome All who enter belong.
MY HEART
My heart seems trapped, so long I wait for the loon's piercing call To transport my being Far beyond knowing Beyond all imagining To the stillness of hidden Truth Where the soul dives Smoothly Home.
Bird on birch, West Kootenays
BORN FROM FEAR
Hatred is born from fear; The true 'enemy' is the cover Over one's own heart, which cannot show its innate radiance until that shield falls away; How can a hidden heart recognize beauty? Just a soft breath of intention can pry the shield away letting a whoosh of love pour out.
KALI
Now that hope is gone I walk without its crutch Kali takes my hand She has stripped me of my sense Of completeness
I see my naked image in the mirror See the frailties Which I must admit-- I look straight into Her eyes Knowing she is the only completeness
I ask Her where you are She answers I already know: The heart of which you and I Already are lovely fragments;
I touch my heart and ask Where now is that sacred bond? She answers: You are touching it.
TURNING EVENING January 21st, 2017
After wandering around on The neck of my guitar tuned in D Making music of the heart Of the Global Women's March There is no color in the west As a mournful sun sets;
Yet above, hundreds of huge cotton-like Ribs display faint pink among The grey, white and light charcoal Swaths of cloud over the river Adorned with nearly imperceptible Rainbows--as the world must now Be adorned with us, its Rainbow warriors, ever onward.
HIGH SIERRA--SEMANA SANTA, 1967
Stark white cafe breaks azul night Silent footprints imprint Spanish sands Between the old truck and counter stool
Music softly echoes inside me Chords connect cool night spaces With precious things far distant
Even across vast spaces of my life It all reaches one center
We cross a river, huts glow In moonlight across flat reaches,
All in this night sing That same heart-song I heard Before Spain came to me.
BESTOW BLESSINGS
When our hearts bestow blessings On anyone no matter how ruthless or contemptible their deeds
Then we know at least How to find the light In which to bathe ourselves.
SHADOW
In the garden we share A freshly picked carrot Me taking a bite, then you Then me, then you
A friend seeing us Thinks we must be lovers
All these dreamy seasons With an image of your face Etched deep in my too-willing heart
You a shadow surrounded by snow Framed by fir trees In that green woolen coat
I took years to untie Those self-made bonds Now I live free Except from these words.
OCTOBER MOON
Gilden moonlight Edges clouds Touches the river One lone cricket is singing.
I LISTENED
I watched as Gaia was taking Her few last feeble breaths
There were no birds soaring No frogs singing No flowers No water to drink
I listened to children Whose voices were like A murmuring stream
I listened as those voice faded away The last remnants of millions of years Of our having been
Then... A boundless empty silence Spilled tears.
SPARKLING ON WATER
We can't put a lid on these: Whistling eagles Sunset over Kagan Bay Mother moose calling her calves Dancing Northern Lights Sun sparkling on water Pinch of barnacles beneath our feet Evening's glow on red sandstone Stark lingering cry of the loon Chill lake bath at morning
Your smile My joy
Making love on salt-wet rocks Texture of a feather Tinkling of a horse's bell Brightness of August Taste of fresh-picked huckleberries
The peace of love Breath of harmony Delicate heart-web of family.
Trumpeter swans from ski trail, Slocan Valley, BC
A WORD
Queer, A word to connote fear A word to foster distain, Separation
That word we wear As a cherished necklace; It helps us fall into our place Bringing art, dance, laughter, community Allowing all into our brilliant rainbow
We can shorten the word to Q It can be a wink, a smile, A nod of the head, an "mmm..." We accept this beacon to light our way
Queer rhymes with dear and near: As is this blossoming family.
I AM THE FOREST SINGING
My feet tread a carpet of moss amid varied shades of green pulling my eyes from lichen to fern, to towering tree tops
My body inhales healing aromas from spruce, cedar, trillium, fungi, dead wood The Forest's vibrations encircle me, a captive of their medicine; I am the Forest holding me
My arms wrap around the solid fir She soothes me as a mother with her child, I am in rhythm with a drumbeat felt, not heard
Gentle breezes glide through branches, I sit on a rock that holds stories of centuries I am the book absorbing their stories
Thrushes sing on--pouring Life's beauty into my heart; Raven's wings thump as kaw-kaw booms out. I inhale the Forest, exhale imitation of Raven's call, feeling my belonging
My eyes follow a shiny beetle, a circling bee, I am the Forest singing this richness of creation, asserting the vibrancy of Life-Death, its ancient wisdom and medicine
I am the owl hooting, the pine cone dropping I am the deer grazing, the squirrel running up fir bark, as sunbeams slant between limbs making shifting patterns
Gently held, my heart expands Alive within miracles and mystery--
I am the Forest singing. (11/2023)
BY GRACE
Under fog-clouds of November I walk to the store for a Covid shot Two women come toward where I sit-- One pushes her infant's carriage, The women are absorbed by Shelves of cosmetics, their busy Voices humming on;
As my mind meanders my eyes settle On the babe bundled neatly In her rustic brown jacket and hood Our eyes find each other's She smiles, lips together, in a steady gaze I smile--such a wonder! From time to time we drift into These friendly, trusting smiles That tie us together; a couple times Her smiling mouth opens We have delight in this communion, The two women do not look toward us Even once; it is just The little one and I sharing a blessing-- My heart expanding.
FROM A WALK
All life really is just a playing out of Creation's limitless imagination
We are the ones imagining, the image, the imagined,
Any small act could be supremely crucial though it seem insignificant.
I GLANCE
I glance at him as he builds-- His head bent over the potter's wheel-- To see whether he has found the tea
A cozy warm fire here From the road only endless fog Our cabin lights are not discerned Rain plays lightly on the roof
His hood up, whistling to himself The man I care for Follows me, takes his tea As in communion
I turn to my music and poetry He in this humble life with me.
LET US BE OPEN
Let us be open to the Ancestors And to the animal and plant spirits To the Earth spirits and water spirits
The Ancestors wait for us to hear them To feel their hearts, now;
Let us be open to the Ancestors For they do not want their wisdom kept Secret, but let it seep into our hearts,
Make a space, a time, let our breath Become their breath, our caring their caring, Their guidance become our lives' United purpose; They have walked here so long;
And are still here-- Listen to the message in the wind-song, Seek out the gift of the Deepest wish in our being
Follow the Ancestors' path; Let us be open Let us be open.
Kayaking, Kootenay River
AUGUST MOON
Staring change square in the face I walk along the river: My solace this night Still water Crickets A golden moon
This separation A multidimensional Amputation
Lying with you, we become Mossy woods--totally alive Greens of various tints Telepathic beings all singing The same music
My breath struggles My gut wrenches Pain of tearing apart Rushes through me I hide my tears
Your laughter rings in my heart Your eyes are what I see Everywhere
I am here with recollections of A ragged old van, a canoe The mountain of splendor Your brightness The feel of your hands in my hair.
HORNS OF COVID
Sometimes I long to blow into A mouthpiece of a horn: My old french horn (how I miss her) Or my long-gone trombone
I make a paper mache pretend Digeridoo, a small cardboard tube For a bugle They'll have to do
Yet brass is so fine in the hands Its vibrations welcomely piercing Crying out pure pathos of grief Of longing Of the whole world in this time.
THE CORD
At the tip of pain Not when pain ends But where one reaches its most Penetrating terror
Is the cord The cord which binds us To the Mother
In the cold unrelenting Truth of certain loss I run crazed through the cedars Crying Crying to the Mother While sun sifts through The Emily Carr trees Bending to my need
Courage: waiting For the cord to appear So I may hang on To something.
SINKING
There is an elegant ballroom On the huge sinking ship Where folks party all night, aware of The hole taking water in below Forgetting it as they drink and dance While the ship slowly rides lower;
There is a card room on the ship Where passengers pray in song-- With mournful voices creating the Saddest harmonies bringing tears To all who hear;
Out on deck doomed believers Pace in crazed circles Asking for forgiveness, imploring Some imagined deity to notice Their plight--plug the hole!
While on another deck those delusional With hope lower down the lifeboats As if floating on a desolate ocean Under a toxic dying sky Might be preferable To drowning with others.
Note: Drowning With Others is a book of poetry by my late poetry teacher, James Dickey.
Kootenay River (from kayak)
LOVE HAS NO BODY
I have learned that love has no body, That rain is a caress, that pebbles embrace one another;
I have learned that inside pain is a pearl of wisdom waiting for the shell which hides it to be opened,
That reality is not subject to intellect, That music is the True Language;
My heart yearns for more lessons.
A FAKE IDEA
In the great brainwashing We are led to value ownership: A fake idea
We brand, we stake out Set up bank accounts Purchase what takes our fancy Lock our doors
We think this is ours, that is ours-- Land, cars, homes, food, Life, status, a job, children
All a fake idea If there be any ownership, then We belong to the forces of Nature, The Creation which formed us
And gave us freedom To think and to act, Even to create and accept A fake idea.
WINTER SOLSTICE
Gaia tips this hemisphere Away from Sol--toward the dark Mystery--billions of stars
Rhythmic waves of good tidings Belt 'round Earth--unconscious Memories of ancient Saturn's time Their vibrations smear away Hungry wide-eyes of war staring Through fog at our merrymaking;
Raven cackles atop a snow-laced pine Raven unseen heard from its tower in fog Over the white expanse Over the still, silent gate of winter In one movement Black wings let go--Raven rises Barking out a screech
Raven voice, a life, for the gods only, Mocks fragile human efforts; With a mark clearer, truer Than these flimsy footsteps of mine In the snow, erased by snow.
Skiing, West Kootenays
REVOLVING
One by one stars come Onto night's empty stage Displaying their silent constancy;
Through all the wounds, Rough tumbles that bruise They are my steadfast companions, To them I reveal my battle sores
Through each struggle At each milestone They have guarded over me, Listened to my tales
I ask them questions of eons past They speak to me Of lost ages, magnificent secrets Powerful and terrible things So that I translate their silences Into sagas rich with agony and triumph
They slowly circle Speaking the greatest poem I've ever heard Gently lulling me to sleep My soul at rest Inside the palm of night, Their revolving wheel Names each of those deities Ever to cradle us on this Earth.
Note: a few of these poems have appeared elsewhere (on this blog and on the Ziraat pages at ruhaniat.org); some have been changed slightly. All photos by the author.
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