I wrote this poem while on retreat in Shenandoah National Park, a place of my resurrection to borrow a term from Celtic spirituality. I was struck by the rhythms of the elements and how Raven played with all of them to weave them together with her joy.
The wind buffets the lichen home -rock
Where I sit - all in blue.
Where there is wind, there is Raven,
A streak of open wings - black against
The parchment of cloud
Calligraphy in deep-midnight-ink, now quicksilver in the sun.
No smoke or trailing sign
Just joy and surrender to life in her ceremony.
then rises above the hollow.
Now, flung far left to the next lap between mountain knees
She meets another Raven.
Two sky-dancers float, fall, spin
And embrace the wind.
Three days past, I first saw Raven
with a small orb in her mouth,
Riding the gusts and whirls of
Sheets of rain swayed
Waterfalls toward us.
Why didn’t I open my hands
To receive the dance,
Sway with the rain,
Welcome the seed?
Raven was looking for a
bare rock slab with a tiny splintering.
She dropped the seed and the
Rain danced, filling the trough.
The grey lichen blushed green.
Bursting the seed coat with the rhythm of dance
Rain and Raven bloomed
Could all the trillium and violets
Flowing like a murmur of laughter along the worn trails
Be gifts of
Raven and Rain?
Raven returned to me on Crescent Rock
To drop the seed into
The fissure of my heart.
Rain greened the earth of my body and
In the rainbow light after the storm
a white trillium bloomed in the shelter of my ribs.
Raven and Rain danced on in the valley,
Silver black play of wings, water, and
Blazing a trail of damp earth