Thursday, December 23, 2010

The Totem Pole



















Photo: (c) Peggy Peterson (Thanks Peggy!)

Dedicated to Ky Woolf Scott with
deep gratitude for his Gifts


Somewhere within you there is a totem pole
yawning and stretching in the first rays of
morning sunlight streaming
in yellows, golds, and blues
through splayed branch-fingers
into a quiet redwood forest glen.

Deeply grounded in plush mossy Earth,
this pole rises eighteen totem faces tall
to convene with the Sky Gods and
your Highest Self.

Ancients carved the pole from
The Great Tree
with intent and ancestral DNA
as fires and sage burned
and prayers that you would
one day understand
were offered
in abundance.

Paints of clay, shell, charcoal, and fish egg
leave little impression,
offer barely a hint
to the eye.

They once gleamed with meaning.

Much time has passed.

But this is a new day
and a new year in the relationship
of the Sun and his beloved Moon.

It is the day arrived
when prayers
will be answered.

Oh how The Great Carvers will rejoice!

It has been written –
the eyelids of even the most
weary-eyed Seer
can be opened by the heart-moistened
lips of Gratitude.

Alternating from
animal to man,
top to bottom,
the totems speak.

Raven, looking below, says:
“Thank you, I am honored
by your strength and devotion.”

Man, looking up, says:
“Trust that you are supported.”

Man, looking down, says:
“Thank you, I am honored
by your strength and devotion.”

Sea Turtle. looking up, says:
“Trust that you are supported.”

Sea Turtle, looking down, says:
“Thank you, I am honored
by your strength and devotion.”

Man, looking up, says:
“Trust that you are supported.”

Man, looking down, says:
“Thank you, I am honored
by your strength and devotion.”

Hawk, looking up, says:
“Trust that you are supported.”

Hawk, looking down, says:
“Thank you, I am honored
by your strength and devotion.”

Man, looking up, says:
“Trust that you are supported.”

Man, looking down, says:
“Thank you, I am honored
by your strength and devotion.”

Wolf, looking up, says:
“Trust that you are supported.”

Wolf, looking down, says:
“Thank you, I am honored
by your strength and devotion.”

Man, looking up, says:
“Trust that you are supported.”

Man, looking down, says:
“Thank you, I am honored
by your strength and devotion.”

Frog, looking up, says:
“Trust that you are supported.”

Frog, looking down, says:
“Thank you, I am honored
by your strength and devotion.”

Man, looking up, says:
“Trust that you are supported.”

Man, looking down, says:
“Thank you, I am honored
by your strength and devotion.”

Hummingbird, looking up, says:
“Trust that you are supported.”

Hummingbird, looking down, says:
“Thank you, I am honored
by your strength and devotion.”

Man, looking up, says:
“Trust that you are supported.”

Man, looking down, says:
“Thank you, I am honored
by your strength and devotion.”

Salmon, looking up says:
“Trust that you are supported.”

Salmon, looking down, says:
“Thank you, I am honored
by your strength and devotion.”

Man, looking up, says:
“Trust that you are supported.”

Man, looking down, says:
“Thank you, I am honored
by your strength and devotion.”

Heron, looking up, says:
“Trust that you are supported.”

Heron, looking down, says:
“Thank you, I am honored
by your strength and devotion.”

Man, looking up, says:
“Trust that you are supported.”

Man, looking down, says:
“Thank you, I am honored
by your strength and devotion.”

Bear, looking up, says:
“Trust that you are supported.”

“Bear, looking down, says:
“Thank you, I am honored
by your strength and devotion.”

Man, looking up, says:
“Trust that you are supported.”

Man, looking into the eyes
of their Mother, says:
“Thank you, I am honored
by your strength and devotion.”

And She replies with words that
she has longed for you to
truly hear:

“Trust that you are supported.”

And She looks into your eyes.

Now, it is your turn.


© 2010-2013/Jamie K. Reaser
Published in "Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out." (www.hiraethpress.com)

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Solstice Moon















Image: NASA


She is there,
moved to western sky
round and red and full
like an areola at birthing
time.

I, on my front stoop,
am riding the planet
that casts Her into shadow.

Some would say,
“for but a short while.”
Yet, it feels like the
time has been so very long,
so very long,
already.

I hear the drumming of ancients
in the meadow
by the wood.

Is it a beat of survival fears
or celestial celebration?

I check inside.

Both.

Memories arise
of the annihilations
we have witnessed.

I know where to find
the doorway
to Lemuria.

Memories arise
of the passionate love we
have made with
our heavenly bodies.

The burning bite of the
enthusiastic Sun
is of no comparison
to the patient, delicate
kisses of the stars.

Here now,
I am witness as She
surrenders -
taken and released
by Darkness.

And I love Her
in afterglow
so strong it sets
the snow alight.

As the pinking fingers
make their way,
I wonder
if in this new radiant
light
of dawn

even the Creator
will discover something
never before seen.

© 2010-2013/Jamie K. Reaser
Published in "Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out" (www.hiraethpress.com)

Feel free to share. Poems are meant to move.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Blue Feathers





















Holding ever so tentatively the Blue Jay feather
in the casual stream of afternoon sunlight,
I turn it back and forth
contemplating Truth.

No pigment,
only what eye and brain
conspire to See.

Blue.

Not at all blue.

What else is boldly portraying itself
with confident illusion?

Tucking the feather behind my
right ear
draws out the impish, giggling
little tom girl of me.

Oh how she loves to play
with feathers!

And I watch her there
sitting on grass,
twirling plumes in feral rays

and I begin to count
the culturally-refracted fallacies that
she has been bottle fed:

“Silence is rewarded.”

“Boys are more important.”

“Normalcy is a requisite for love.”

“Profit should trump passion.”

“You can only love one.”

When did we all stop suckling
on the nipple of Authenticity?

Why were our rattles taken away
before we could fully embody
our own unique rhythm
into the world?

How come we learned to scream
“No! No! No!”
before being invited to play
in the joy bubbles of
“YES! YES! YES!”…?

I join her on the manicured lawn,
letting my clothed buttocks settle onto
ground that once had a different
perspective on what it was right to grow.

Drawing her into my lap with a smile
and nurturing embrace,

I whisper The Secret of Life into her left ear:

“Hold your beliefs loosely,

and always test them in the Light.”

© 2010-2013/Jamie K. Reaser
published in "Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out" (www.hiraethpress.com)

Note: Blue jay feathers do not contain blue pigment. The impression of blue color results from the brain/eye processing of light refracted from the feathers.

Monday, November 29, 2010

No Fear















Image: (c) Jamie K. Reaser



I don’t want to live in fear –

To give credence to the voices
of other people
that have been circling me

with warnings of
loneliness,
suffering,
poverty,
and annihilation

since the moment
of my conception.

In so many combinations
of words and accents they all say:

“Stay small.”

“Don’t take risks.”

“Never let yourSelf be seen.”

Like cages,
Like ropes,

Their beliefs about the world
entrap and suffocate.

“Life is dangerous,”
say the so-called living.

No more.

No more!

I want to roam and breathe.

I want to dance naked in
a public square
until everyone there
has counted all
of the moles on
my body,
twice.

I want to warble my
True Name
from a branch of
the oldest tree on Earth,

and then I want to ask it
what it has to say
about standing up
straight and tall,

about unabashedly offering its
services to the multiple generations
of frightened humans
who have sat in the
shade it has gifted.

Homo sapiens:

The most self-terrified species.

Ah,

What is this the bold wind
offers?

It is the sound of leaves
rustling in a far off
land.

And in the way that the words
of the wise always out-travel
and out-live their speaker,

I hear the Elder tree say,

“Just keep reaching
for the Light.”

© 2010-2013/Jamie K. Reaser
Published in "Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out" (www.hiraethpress.com)

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Praise
















Image: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Touch the puff cloud sky
with child-wonderment.

Lick the raindrops
alit upon your lips.

Praise the miracle moment
that begot you.

“Do you know why you
were given a sweet voice?”

asks Nuthatch.

Do you know why you
are capable of delicate touch?”

asks Wind.

“So that you can say

‘Thank you,’

embody gratitude as a
daily act of reciprocity
for the air you breathe.”

Butterfly, flower nectaring,
knew the answer.

Feel molding leaves under the arch
of your foot.

Tell the coarse oak bark how
beautiful it is using at least
100 words.

Why should Living
be anything less
than Love Making?

Taste the delicious tears
of Truth.

© 2010-2013/Jamie K. Reaser
Published in "Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out" (www.hiraethpress.com)

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Until We Meet Again















Image: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


The Autumn wind
across my bare cheek

reminds me of your touch,

the smell of leaves being loved
in their death –

your sweet life pungency
after a day of our hill walking.

The old Black Walnut grove
is barren, cadaverous

but in the ancient tongue
it speaks like ancestral Oak

beckoning me
to See.

And in the eye that knows
the lips of mystics and gentle men,

I watch the xylem pressure rise and
buds leaf into prayer position.

In the outstretched herbaceous palms
of the entire forest are written our

Lives lines.

I read the crossings,

knowing The Cross
as a symbol of alignment
of the Realms.

And I exhale from my heart,
mounting intent like a rider
upon the thermals.

I am everywhere,

Until we meet again.

© 2010-2012/Jamie K. Reaser

Monday, November 1, 2010

Daffodil















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


His yellow smock

offers no apologies

for its brazen attempt

to embody the bold cry

that we fear might pass

our own lips.


Even on culturally accepted

moments of

ecstatic inspiration –


Such as the viewing

of spring-time blooms –


So many will remain

wanting of their

expression

of Glory.


© 2010-2011/Jamie K. Reaser