Call from the Kalahari

Art: Mark Collins
https://markcollinsfineart.com/

Sometimes, we have to make ourselves known,

to perch high enough to be able to chant our

prayers out across open terrain because

to be silent in the scrub would be

to defy something bold and invisible.

I’ve watched birds do this, and other wild

things, and some children who hadn’t

yet lost memory of their true nature. They

make me happy in their way of being

of this world.

I think in each one of us there are words

that we’ve been asked to speak, but not

all of us do. Sometimes, there is just too

much keeping them choked down for too

long and we forget what a voice is for. Then,

grief, like firmly wrapped talons, won’t let go.

There are stories like that in my family tree,

silences where there should have been words.

I’ve learned to be able to speak to them, but

finding listeners isn’t easy.

What about you? What are your words,

and have you spoken them out to the world?

Have you implored people to listen? Please

do. It will change things. I promise.

In the Kalahari, there’s a goshawk on the branch

of a tree rooted in the cradle of humanity,

chanting, over and over again, something

that he wants you to hear.

Listen.

As I pray that you will.

© 2018/Jamie K. Reaser

For book project collaboration with artist Mark Collins

Solstice Moon

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

How come no one ever told me her stories?

Never said, “Look up there, see?” Why wasn’t

I birthed into awe?

I spent so much energy trying to shine, to

be the bright object of affection. But, I wasn’t.

And, I grew out of it.

Now I can see the obvious and grieve its

invisibility without a need to claim ownership

of it. This existence is enough for me

to know that I came from somewhere.

In the branches there are memories of birds,

but no birds, yet. Do you understand how

things change?

Oh, how lovely, the solstice moon. She lavishes

me with the bold textures of the face that

looks upon me. He has always looked down

upon me. And, I’m so grateful.

© 2018/Jamie K. Reaser

From "Truth and Beauty" (a work in progress)

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Touch the Sky

Art: Mark Collins
www.markcollinsfineart.com/

There’s a first time to touch the sky.

I feel mine coming.

***

How do we distinguish yearning

from escaping? As I teeter on the edge,

I’m realizing that it is yearning that

lifts us away from that which has

grown too small. There are

once-it-fit-so-well places that we

must depart from.

***

The eagle banked against the storm

clouds. I saw it out there, but

I felt it in here.

Around and around, caressing the

directions, all of them, with long,

grey wing tips. I knew that it was

thanking some god and yet praying.

It wasn’t done with desire. Not nearly.

As powerful as it was, it became small

to me. I thought, “How does it do

that on those flimsy feathers?”

I was swept away.

***

Do you have wings,

and is there a sky calling your soul

to journey toward some horizon?

Oh, then, please—you must take

the heavy step across the sill and

rise before the thermals

dissipate at day’s end.

~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author
A book collaboration in progress with artist Mark Collins

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Yule

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

How did the holly know it would need to color grey?

And the oak, that there was good reason to hold

auburn leaves this long?
Who told them of this cold darkness and our

unadmitted need for gods to thank?
This day of this season -
when the long-nights moon gives herself over,
I know how to hear the gasp of all the living things
that have been praying for the return of the light.
What I know too, and want to say, and want you to hear
is that with the sun arises a requisite attentiveness.

What is there, right there, to see?

Can you kneel down, humbled, and act upon a thing?

Can you find yourself blessed by any revelation?
Can you remember the unuttered agreement

that holds you steadfast?
What else is there but what is before us?
Mustn’t we tread this way though now we see it?

Though now we know?
Tell me you will greet me at dawn with joy.

~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author
From "Plant Songs" (a work in progress)

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