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Poetry by Cheryl Della Pelle (con't)
Coming and Going
among the Trees
November wind tunnels down the fire-trail,
underfoot, horse droppings mush into mud,
a shot-gun blasts the nearby wood
as I worry the good of my red coat.
Keep walking. I spit out mantra words
that pierce through chill air,
some syllables fall onto shit,
heel them, grind them in good
know here they will grow fast.
Stray seeds of prayers and faint hopes
all beg for the ground,
all mingle blood and water.
I keep walking straight as the pines
who brush a cheek, grab a pull of hair
and speak so slowly,
sometimes it takes all day to hear one word.
They rush out green. I run a breath out.
"Find the cost of freedom, buried in the ground.
Mother Earth will swallow you, lay your body
down."
Song. Sung. Signs in the wilderness
point to a life of saplings bent,
stripped of tender bark from deer rubs.
God help us, those itchy antlers.
For a woman who keeps walking,
a rapid heartbeat is only the beginning.
among the Trees
November wind tunnels down the fire-trail,
underfoot, horse droppings mush into mud,
a shot-gun blasts the nearby wood
as I worry the good of my red coat.
Keep walking. I spit out mantra words
that pierce through chill air,
some syllables fall onto shit,
heel them, grind them in good
know here they will grow fast.
Stray seeds of prayers and faint hopes
all beg for the ground,
all mingle blood and water.
I keep walking straight as the pines
who brush a cheek, grab a pull of hair
and speak so slowly,
sometimes it takes all day to hear one word.
They rush out green. I run a breath out.
"Find the cost of freedom, buried in the ground.
Mother Earth will swallow you, lay your body
down."
Song. Sung. Signs in the wilderness
point to a life of saplings bent,
stripped of tender bark from deer rubs.
God help us, those itchy antlers.
For a woman who keeps walking,
a rapid heartbeat is only the beginning.
When the Ravens Assemble
black feathers pour out of the sky,
swoop down from crags in rock-face
to take a big, black bird-shape.
Raven speaks in a commanding voice
gathers his tribe for a conference
and tells of how the blue sky loves itself.
No matter who is watching, a large female
shakes out her loose feathers,
and a nearby woman tidies up her house that
holds her life.
Two elders stride through tall grass,
bow black heads together in confidence,
speak about the location of a fresh deer carcass.
When I walk out later, green grass holds
shook feathers as thin black banners
that remind me to pay attention to Raven,
To take a raucous message back into myself
where many worlds whirl in the great dance,
where we are called to learn how to fly,
and to then get on with it, fly, fly, fly.
black feathers pour out of the sky,
swoop down from crags in rock-face
to take a big, black bird-shape.
Raven speaks in a commanding voice
gathers his tribe for a conference
and tells of how the blue sky loves itself.
No matter who is watching, a large female
shakes out her loose feathers,
and a nearby woman tidies up her house that
holds her life.
Two elders stride through tall grass,
bow black heads together in confidence,
speak about the location of a fresh deer carcass.
When I walk out later, green grass holds
shook feathers as thin black banners
that remind me to pay attention to Raven,
To take a raucous message back into myself
where many worlds whirl in the great dance,
where we are called to learn how to fly,
and to then get on with it, fly, fly, fly.