Herman Creek

Herman Creek

Tears and ash fall into my lunch today
An Empress with her realm in flames, my creatures dying by the tens of thousands again
If not for my ribs and skin, my heart would surely fall of its own weight at my feet
I beseech, no, I beg of the Goddesses, please let this one be
Please let this jewel shine, please see it’s incomparable beauty persist
Please let the waters fall, please let the skies open and deliver salvation to our land
Please let tall cedars greet future visitors, strong and broad, unburnt
Please, if these things cannot be, please, please, please, let my creatures flee!
Please, PLEASE, do not make them pay for the actions of people who cannot see

 

2017-09-07 07_12_54-Map produced by Gmap4 from mappingsupport.com

 

During the Eagle Creek fire, thousands of acres burned, from Eagle Creek all the way West to Corbett.  During the first several days of the fire, it was pretty clear that Herman Creek had escaped the initial conflagration.  Then, it all changed as the wind shifted and the fires roared East, threatening Hood River and burning all the way to Mount Defiance and Starvation Ridge.  Herman Creek trail took a big hit, burning several miles into the interior, and up Groton Creek and Nick Eaton.  

I wrote this poem sitting in Portland, eating a burrito outside at lunch.  Ashes were falling in the hazy sunshine, choked with smoke from the Gorge. I think the determination that carried me through all of 2018, working in the burn damage on Herman Creek Trail and the Pacific Crest Trail, it was born that day.  Ten months later, the work largely completed, the trail was open and I did laps of all the PCT to HCT and in reverse, two 26 mile trips with 5700′ e.g. in two weeks.  For me, this poem truly encapsulates the hopelessness I felt back in September 2017, sitting miles away as the Gorge burned. 

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HCT and Nick Eaton to the right here, severely burned area.

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Nick Eaton Falls before the fire

The One Who Watches

When you burn my heart to ashes
I will renew it with unconditional love
When you exhaust my eyes with crying
I will look upon others with great kindness
When you smother my voice and I cannot speak
I will let my deeds speak in compassionate volumes
When you cover me in deep darkness
I will be the light that shines brightly
When you ravage my heart and mind with loss,
I will remember, I am not my heart or mind
When you try to deprive me of happiness
I will be the one who watches

#whenyourmomdies #poetry #grief #loss #michaelsinger

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THE LEGEND OF TSAGAGLALAL

THERE are several versions of the legend, but the one that was told to us by the Wishram people is as follows:

A woman had a house where the village of Nixluidix was later built. She was chief of all who lived in the region. That was a long time before Coyote came up the river and changed things and people were not yet real people.  After a time Coyote in his travels came to this place and asked the inhabitants if they were living well or ill. They sent him to their chief who lived up on the rocks, where she could look down on the village and know what was going on.

Coyote climbed up to the house on the rocks and asked “What kind of living do you give these people? Do you treat them well or are you one of those evil women?” “I am teaching them to live well and build good houses,” she said.

“Soon the world will change,” said Coyote, “and women will no longer be chiefs.” Then he changed her into a rock with the command, “You shall stay here and watch over the people who live here.”

All the people know that Tsagaglalal sees all things, for whenever they are looking at her those large eyes are watching them.

-“Stone Age on the Columbia River” by Emory Strong, 1959

Useful links:

https://www.oregonhikers.org/field_guide/She_Who_Watches_Hike

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This Tattered Landscape

Grief swells, crashing against the sand of my psyche
Waves pummelling the landscape of my heart
Topography altered in the hot, searing pain of loss
Mind, in retreat, too wary of the ongoing maelstrom
Warm memories of her shine light into the dark
I look across this tattered landscape of sadness
Eyes so tired of crying they can find no tears
I stumble in this unfamiliar, charred terrain
Following the path of the unknown, into the wilderness
Planting flowers of love in the ashen soil
Willing Spring’s celebration of life to heal my soul

#whenyourmomdies #grief #loss

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April’s Clouds

April’s Clouds

April brings fresh storms after the fool’s day
April rain pours into my heart, yet it does not dull the pain
April whispers ‘I’m here again, just as you knew I’d be’
April presents the pain of loss anew, so savagely
April demands the memories that must be seen
April’s unkindness lays manifest upon my psyche
April’s last words, ‘I love you, Susan’ falling in my ear
April rains stream from my eyes, inflaming my heart
April clouds are covering me, so I cannot see
April sun, oh, where are you?
April please just let me be, please let me preserve my sanity

Mothers Day 2017

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I love you, Mom.

#grief #loss T_T

Queen Bee

In the Crossword section of the New York Times lives my favorite daily puzzle. The Spelling Bee provides seven letters, one of which must be included in every word. The ultimate goal is to get all the possible combinations that match the word list.

Proper nouns are not considered valid, and there’s handsome points available for getting the panagram(s), using all available letters in one word. Words must be at least four characters in length.

My partner Kelley and I play daily, and I am her pinch hitter to find the elusive panagrams, which for me I do a quick exhaustive combination in my head, jumbling word roots and endings.

The software engineer in me realizes I could pretty easily write code to solve all possible combinations for seven letters with one mandatory in all words, eliminate words less that 4 characters, and cross-match what’s left against database dictionary tables, and pop out a list. I’m sure someone probably has. But where’s the fun in that?

There’s a point scale for levels, Genius is our daily goal. Getting every possible word bestows you the highest score of Queen Bee.

Your progress is automatically saved online so you can return to it during the day when you have time.

It’s a super vocabulary builder, sometimes really challenging to hit our goal. It’s a really good mental agility game, I find it really helps build focus.

After all, who wouldn’t want to be Queen Bee for a day? 🐝 😁

Eagle Creek Fire

I am sorry for the Eagles this day
I am sorry for the owls, ravens, hawks, songbirds, even the noisy jay
I am sorry for the pikas, chipmunks, squirrels, who would steal my lunch scraps
I am sorry for the majestic Elk, the deer, bobcats and lions of the mountains, I marvel at the rare sight of you, moving with ease and beauty
I am sorry for the fish, the snakes, my beautiful lowly banana slugs, the bees and butterflies
I am sorry that Man alone, of all creatures on this Earth, has lost the knowledge how to live in harmony with Nature
I am sorry that Man again has filled your magical home with smoke, fire, and death
I am sorry, I would do anything to reverse this, to restore your lives and homes
I am sorry, I honor your lives, extinguished by the thousands every hour of this terrible day
I am sorry, I hear and feel your souls, all crying out in fear, pain, and mortal agony
I am so very, very, terribly sorry, I pray that the universe will forgive us.

– Me, September 2017

😭 I read this poem and a few others at Mother Foucault’s Bookstore in Portland last year. My partner’s poetry and art were featured in an anthology. Both of us now participate in the 31 Days of August Postcard Poetry Fest. There’s a signup then you get a list of 31 names in your group. It was so fun and writing every day while traveling and playing in the summer sunshine gave extra inspiration. ❤

When Shakti Meets Shiva

When Shakti meets Shiva,
Sahasrara glowing violet
Beautiful energy of the universe flows
I should have known,
I should have expected her
Where else would she be?
I found her, still grounded to this earth by love
She came to me, and I felt so much joy!
But my heart, she did not know
My heart, she did not expect this
My heart, she cries out the same word,
Over and over again,I hear, ‘Mom! Mom! Mom!’
I am not my heart, mind, or ego
But I hear her pain, and watch
As tears flow, on my yoga mat.

#poetry #grief