When did poetry arrive for you? What is your relationship to poetry? Do you write it, read it? Where does it live for you?
When the story begins: “scientists report…” we have come to expect bad news; and to prepare for data. Only here is an image: a moose calf behind some shrubs, her belly, haunches, even her ears studded with the small, grey swelling balloons of winter ticks packed tight, side to side at the trough of her…
A beautiful poem by Michael Havers that has us question our place in nature.
Give praise with hum of bees,
Give praise with the little peepers who live near water.
When they fill the marsh with a shimmer of bell-like cries
We know that the winter is over.
I am the universe in motion,
For I was born from stars.
Give me wisdom
Beneath cool moonlight,
And wild gypsies songs,
You, darkness, that I come from
I love you more than all the fires
that fence in the world,
The terrain around here
The drums…dancing to the heartbeat
Memories of long ago insights to the future
I hear the winds whispering my sweat lodge dreams
I see Sungmanitu tanka (the wolf) my guide
I bow my head before you as I look deeply and recognize that you are present in me and that I’m a part of you. I was born from you and you are always present, offering me everything I need for my nourishment and growth. My mother, my father, and all my ancestors are also your children. We breathe your fresh air. We drink your clear water. We eat your nourishing food. Your herbs heal us when we’re sick.