Selected Poems
Excerpted from "Hands of Time" by E. Barrie Kavasch
Illustrations by E. Barrie Kavasch
GrandMother Spider
Grandmother Spider spreads her silken
threads and anchors them among
wild herbs in woodland hedgerows
embroidered with crystals of dew.
A benevolence of timeless art,
precision, radiance, and death,
I form a fascination with Her
Web of Life.
Long among the ancients
spider was the craftsperson - creator;
special powers flowed from one
so diminutive, clever, silent …
mysterious spider
accomplishes everything.
[Remembering Claude Medford, Jr., Choctaw-Apache artist, historian]
Abundance …
The Universe holds unlimited abundance!
Earth * Fire * Water * Air * Metal * Spirit
Elements of life surround me.
A glass of clear water behind a white candle,
Sage, black crow feather, and sea stones become
My altar to the Great Mystery, who’s power
Takes me beyond ego and limitations.
I am linked with the Universe.
I move beyond simple time and needs.
I create the abundance, prosperity and
Happiness I desire, and share it
With the world. P E A C E …
Pulse of Night
The breathing hills
sea rose and wild grape
above the tides caught
in the pulse of night.
I know myself here,
the open air and tide pools;
a calm enchantment grows,
wild onions among plantain and stone.
Watching the moon rise
high above damp earth and Sound
growing bright, engulfed by starlight
devouring night in shimmering waves.
Sun through white fog
another day begins
in crystal light.
Sandia Mountain Sunrise
I ask melon colored stones
older than this path
through desert arroyos,
“May I pass in peace
along this channel of life?”
Angel trumpets lift white
luminous faces to the random
flights of evening moths.
Cactus blossoms shine
like radiant stars
atop green arms and
barrel chests lighting
the darkness of memory.
I sing to the flowering
Chamisa as I brush by,
“May I pick some of your
branches, my friend, for
my healing needs?”
agreeably she dances
on breath of desert wind
and lifts her branches
from hot sand
to my hand.
[Albuquerque, NM]
Road Kill Cafe
Just another day at Road Kill Cafe
and the dead Canada Goose arrived …
picking ripe raspberries when the phone rang
prayers for its beauty and spirit softly
sung in Lakota with tobacco blessings,
our simple ceremonies, filled with
traditions and meaning,
obviously matter in the great universe.
Wendell and Peter centered healing
energies on the ridge,
I sautéed, roasted, and served gourmet “wildlings”.
[for Wendell Deer With Horns, Lakota Pipe Carrier, historian, friend; Watertown, CT, & Peter]
Poppies
Fragile poppies erupt from the soil of my garden
to wave brilliant petals in velvety hues
shaking loose their hairy husks,
dancing free of summer’s somnolence …
a friend’s delicate pink offering
from an elegant oriental garden …
my garish orange ones have bloomed
and blown free of upright pods,
woody now, ripening tiny black
seeds as delicious
contemplations.
[Remembering Everett Brown]
|
