RETURNING

by Nimhue Willow

  

I was not born to the land on which I stand

I come from a place 

where pavement runs in the memories of rivers

Groves of electric trees stand rather than ash

Human debris and scattered trash

More common than even weeds 

 

My first taste of wild strawberry

Was a heartsong rhapsody

My first breath atop a mountain

Reverence for a gale

These things told me I’d never known home

Surrounded by a city, yet I’d been alone

 

Our mother, she called me back to her

Her voice carried on wind that dances through trees

A passerine song of Knowing

I had to wash my eyes in the river

Had to lose my mind wandering, to know

That there is a spirit in all that which is growing

 

I am returning to the Earth, my home

The messages from the first peoples 

A roadmap of scintillating stars

Waterfalls fill my cup with gratitude

My heart sings to this community

Of rocks and wings, lichen and fins

 

Now I walk the stolen beaches

Climb the mountains named for men

I miss the elk whose calls I never heard

And mourn the marshlands lost

My heart aches, stomach full of extinct butterflies

When I think what could have been

 

I am a seed from a faraway land

Carried like plantago on the boots of danger

But I will give whatever I must to reconcile the past

Arms wrapped ‘round the elm

To protect this love so that it lasts

I sink my roots into the mud

 

I am home at last

STORM ON THE ISLAND

by Nimhue Willow

 

Rockweed waves and aspen quakes

roll with claps of thunder

A fog that looms o'er the green wall

On the island that stands sunder

 

Cormorant calls out

warning his fellow feathered friends

"Hark- a storm approaches!"

A sun sets and day ends

 

I sit here on a granite throne

Beads of rain build like sweat

A prayer is answered- the drought is over

And the Earth is once more wet

 

______________________

Poet's Commentary:

Wassumkeag is an enchanting place that

is dear to my heart, and it has a vibrant 

recorded history. For decades, it has been

eyed as a "prime site" for various capitalist

escapades, from a nuclear plant site to

cargo ports, and most recently for 

experimental wind farming. It is paramount

then that we members of the community

keep the songs, stories, and legacies of this

place alive- to defend it with words, the

pen as our sword.

 

 

 

This poem has been featured in the Midcoast Poetry

Journal, vol. 3

HOUSEFLY

by Nimhue Willow

  

Of the housefly in Winter

Who dances restlessly in my window

Born from within the walls

And destined to die in less than a week

What is your purpose? 

You are the only fly here

So if you can know love, it is not for that

No furtherment of the species

Neither will you be prey to someone else

I believe I know your purpose

You exist to witness yourself

The perfect eyes from which to see 

All the beauty around you

Another mouth that the universe can use

To taste the sticky honey on my counter

More limbs to reach out and touch

The soft leaves of the house plants

Housefly, your fate is not doom

Your short life is not in vain

You are here as the universe

Experiencing itself

 

Heart Tells Me it is So

by Nimhue Willow

  

Sure as the sun rises in the East, true as an arrow strikes the heart of a deer

Knowing as an elder whose life was well lived

I am returning to a place I've never been

 

This home I've never known, whose rubble stands as evidence

Scattered patches of trees and rock

Separated by rivers black and blue

 

There is a time when I will return, my heart tells me it is so

Confirmation found in black soil

And the roots of nourishment to come

 

I believe in what will come to me, I will ignore time till' then

Waiting is worry is wasteful

So I bring the future to my Now!

 

Tucking saplings into Earth, to feed the daughter I don't yet know

Gather seeds whose daybreak is When?

I plant a crop of hope

 

Dreams come to me carrying promise- a vision to guide the day

I will walk beyond tiredness

Until I arrive home.

 

Until we arrive home.

My heart tells me it is so.

 

Amphibian

by Nimhue Willow

  

Life began in a tiny pond

Which is marked on no man's map

Yet my ancestors have known this place

Since before maps and men

This Knowing untaught

And deep like the bull frog's croak

 

Through the pearly veil I feel the softness of sun

Welcomed by warm and gentle waters; I am born

All I know is to swim

And dodge and eat and live

 

The moons pass quickly

Many of my siblings have seen their last

But here I am changing

My body heeds a call to a place unknown

 

I rise to the mirrored surface

to take a new kind of breath

Walking was funny at first

The memory of water too recent

Then walking wasn't so funny anymore

As I journeyed the big wide world

 

But all is worth it when night falls

The stars bring dinner and a show

With a belly full I call out in the dark

"I am as above and so below,

Only I can live twice."

The song must have been good

For soon I becomes We

 

A new dawn breaks and deep in murk

of a puddle amongst pines

A tiny pearl glimmers

Ready for its time

 

the Flip Phone

by Nimhue Willow

  

I am the subject of many a joke

Among my peers and friends

For I have a flip phone

Yes- by choice

 

I cannot type with speed or watch videos

Social media is not an option

Emoticons only come in 8 styles

I'd say that's pretty generous

 

But who has the last laugh

It is I, who yesterday climbed a mountain

Today I learned how to embroider

And I think tomorrow I'll make panna cotta

 

I wrote my mum just to catch up

And called a few grandmothers

My bestie visits from out of town

And I'm friends with my local librarian

 

My friends complain of not enough time in a day

Someday they'll "get around to" their dreams

Skills yearn to be built, hobbies abandoned

All in the name of Internet

 

I don't know who won the Oscars

But I can bring you to a fox's den

Today's lingo is foreign speak

But I do know a little Irish

 

So, I am the subject of many a joke

Laughed at by hollow eyes

Whose bearers realize what they're missing

And it's not the little black box

Sweet Morgan

by Nimhue Willow

  

The rains come pattering on window sills

Winter o'er - life no longer frozen still

For roots through Earth are crawling around

And life burgeons from below the ground

A woman with hair like sweet golden chaff

With kindly eyes and a most contagious laugh

Heralds Springtime as all creatures wait

Flowers blooming behind her gait

This maiden of seedtime with crocus in her crown

Wears a dress of lace and gosling down

Doth hold a bouquet of sunlight and rainbow

Showering the Earth down below

The fritillaries land on her rosy skin

"A flower she must be, our blossom kin!"

She warms the hearts that iced over

Quilting a blanket of sweet pea and clover

The song sparrow cries with delight to this queen

Handsome toads bow, their blush hidden by green

Dandelions erupt, anxious to meet Her

The waterbodies dance and begin to stir

This is Morgan, our lady of Springtime

Honor her now with this lovely rhyme

 

_________________________

Poet's Commentary:

This poem was a birthday gift to my friend,

who is not only a Spring baby but an aspiring

florist. 

SHE

by Nimhue Willow

  

She

She guides me by moonlight

Trusting steps part the dark

Like trusting lips parted

of a woman in heat

Head without thoughts, tuned

to her whispers

Scintillate and show me the way

Cloaked in your night I am safe

 

 

Matrescence

Our mother in Earth

From her volcanic womb

We are all birthed

Here I stand 

in her image and form

Alive

Breathing her wind

Singing her name through the sparrow

"Oh my mother my mother!"

Rejoice

In this gift of Being

 

Goddess

A fire can burn

And you still show up green

This strength passes down the line

and can be found in bending birches,

mother bears and the doe who

gives herself to arrow

Feed me

From your breast and then your blood

which flows from the maple

who has endured as we women do

Giving when we oursleves are dry

 

She

From grandmother to mother to me to my daughter

You enrich us with gifts most sacred

Not only a life but the doorway to it

For the power to bring and to birth

Or to darken the moon

All for the cost of mere blood

 

Red Moon Black

by Nimhue Willow

  

Quick is the womb which truly loves

Rewarding sweet nectar for pleasure

But now I am here having swallowed the moon

Counting on days that should have come

 

Worry and wonder quake inside

I dream of laughter I long to hear

But the time is not now and I am the hare

I must release for my own survival

 

A mother tomorrow I cannot be

If a woman today I am not

I made a promise to those yet born

That they would come to me on the land

 

This morning the herbs tingle on my lips

And nearing thirty I can't help but wonder

How many more moons have I?

Will I make it back to my nesting grounds?

 

A friend tells me you're never ready

"There's no time like the present"

But her youth came with all she wanted

And needed for nothing

 

I finish my tea and pray to the river

May you run and flow over

Someday I'll return this way

To spawn and pass on the story

 

_____________________

Poet's Commentary:

This poem came to me in that troubling time

when a woman is not quite sure if she is 

pregnant or not, when the world won't stop

spinning and there are decisions to be made.

Trance

by Nimhue Willow

  

The way does not need finding

Indeed it often finds you

Spellbinds as you sit and pull

thread over cloth

Or make life from earthen clay

This place exists between worlds

Timeless and free of rules

It finds you in bed with the heat

of your lover as the night seems

to never end

You'll step there sometimes

if you duck between boughs

or cross over the boundary brook

The dreams that come in the

early rays of morning are

a window into this world

What can bring me out but

Completion?

Satisfaction is the only escape

It is said when you weave to 

weave in an error

So your soul can find the way out

As I pull work the thread into shapes

Lost in worlds, wonders, and ways

I leave a piece of myself

Behind in every work

 

 

We are the Fates

by Nimhue Willow

  

Endowed am I, being a woman and all

Converse to the narrative we've readily been told

Who wrote the joke that I sprang from his rib?

When I pushed you from my own vagina

No man shall dam the ebb and flow of my tides

Paper and pen cannot stop what may be

I hold the instruments of life and of fate

Weaving or snipping threads as I choose

Growing the buds or pruning them back

You envy this power of mine

And seek to control it with force

How would you like if I let the wells run dry?

And put an end to us all?

In a world ruled by men

Let us not forget who let them in

And who will see them out

 

Lady of the Sea

by Nimhue Willow

  

If there is a word for the sound of waves

It is your voice

Which tells me stories like great echoes

Cried from the beginning of our line

 

I found your earring laying amidst the rocks

An indigo shell over which

a snail taught me patience

 

I learned to see myself in other women

When stars reflected on the surface of the sea

And you are here when I look to the mirror

Your eyes layered in the strata of mine

 

Our eldest grandmothers have come to surface

Drawing breaths between their songs

While we watch with awe from the jetty

 

You taught me to swim

Holding me the way an otter does

And I felt the strength of the waves

And knew it was yours all along

 

Salt on my skin reminds me of you

As does the way a hole in the sand fills

with water to never leave me dry

 

_____________________

Poet's Commentary:

This poem was written as a gift to my maternal

grandmother, Kerry Beth Mowatt, as a mother's

day gift. She will always be a queen of the sea

and a kindred spirit to me, a fellow Libra-

quiet, observing, with an open heart.

 

 

 

Purple Woman

by Nimhue Willow

  

Purple is the marriage of red and blue

Two great things come together

You, woman born of Gemini

Play two roles in one story

 

The purple woman was my mother first

Because of her I have wanted for not

And needed even less

My cheeks have nary known salt

for she has always wiped away tears

When I needed to be brave she came with a token

And gave me the strength that comes with Red

I know that I saved her as much as she saved me

From a loss came a new life

It is all I can do to be your only girl

And to love you as much as you love me

 

 

The purple woman is my grandmother also

she braided my hair

Weaving in love with every twist

From her I learned the butter must be cold

and the strawberries are best weeping from sugar

If I was a ballerina, she put on my lady slippers

If I was an artist, she kept my paint cups full

And if I had a secret

She was the cattail to whisper it to

Grandmothers are a well of love that never runs dry

Waters crystal and Blue

 

Today I knit a shawl in purple

With stitches I learned watching your hands

And when I wear it, its close to a hug

From the purple woman I love

 

________________________

Poet's Commentary:

This poem is dedicated to my paternal grandmother,

Deborah Lynn Kammerer, as a mother's day gift.

Grammy loves the color purple, a color of duality

just like her Gemini spirit. Her love for me and mine

for her is unmatchable, a bond like red and blue.

 

 

 

Beauty like a Shadow

by Nimhue Willow

 

People are mistaken if they think there is one way to be

beautiful.

 

While it is known that roses are red,

And that beauty is true,

It can be found also in the dark rouge

of a pitcher plant that yearns for blood

And the emerald leaves of ivy that climb the mortuary

Or the first white snowdrops that spring from the frozen Earth

 

And yes, a horse's mane is grace and shine,

But so are the crystal scales of a serpent

The iridescent elytra of a beetle

The moonlight reflecting on a dark black pond

How light pours through a glass of red wine

 

Surely there is beauty in many women's faces

Each one as unique as a snowflake

But the shadow woman's beauty is not found in a magazine

Her eyes are laughter and venom and stories

Her hair is corn silk and spider webs and sun rays

Her smile is sharp and contagious and fierce

 

The shadow woman's beauty is

not pretty like a daffodil

But pretty like a fern

It doesn't grow out in the open for all to see,

or make a fuss and show for every bee

It must be sought and honnored

 

For the shadow woman's beauty lies in

the dark side of the moon

Ephermeral and quiet

Nocturnal, an owl watching

From a gnarled tree

With stars in her eyes

 

________________________

Poet's Commentary:

This poem is dedicated to my mother, a gift for mother's

day. My mum is what some would label as "goth,"

but to me she is just the darker side of beautiful,

comfortable in the face of death and familiar with

the emotions you face in the shadows. 

 

 

 

Demeter

by Nimhue Willow

 

Once you told me that you were barren

Your tears were rain

Imprinted with the hope a seed would sprout

What a turn of events it has been then

For you to stand here now with a daughter in your image

An autumnal gift born to lady of springtime

You must be Demeter then; mother of Persephone

For you bring in the time of blooms and sun

And she the falling leaves and quiet skies

Your strength is boundless dear woman

For Demeter’s story is not an easy one

But a goddess of life reaps what she sows

And the seeds you sow have sweet smiles

I am honored to be your friend

To have known you so closely while you carried

To have learned so much from another woman

Surely your powers must be great

To have made me yearn for a child of my own

 

 

________________________

Poet's Commentary:

This poem is dedicated to my friend, Mariette, as

a gift for mother's day, who I had the joy of being very close to

during her first pregnancy This close  experience with a mother-to-be

was like a window into something I was unfamiliar with, and

truthfully had feared for a very long time. I have to thank Mariette

for this time, as watching her belly grow and sharing in the intimate

experience of pregnancy, being able to hold her newborn baby,

all brought me into the circle of life.

 

 

 

Canary Yellow

by Nimhue Willow

 

I know a woman whose aura is a yellow canary

Bright like a tulip of amber sherry

She is bird song and sunbeams

Quilt stitches with loving seams

Quaking aspens dance in warm breeze

A sunflower that always faces East

Citrus slices on a water glass

Buttercups in prairie grass

Honeycombs in turmeric tea

A swallowtail dancing on sweet pea

Chanterelles peek from the forest floor

Golden sands on the seashore

Sulphur streaks in ancient stone

Delicious sweet corn homegrown

 

Of all the colors in a rainbow of hues

Canary yellow best suits you

 

 

________________________

Poet's Commentary:

This poem is dedicated to my mother-in-law,

Becky, as a gift for Mother's Day. She is truly a

woman with a yellow soul, as is evident by her

incredible sunflower gardens! She is cheery and a

joy to be around- and I am grateful for all of our

adventures, spelunking, and picnics- always seemingly

on a sunny day.

 

 

 

I am my own Death Doula

by Nimhue Willow

 

A song came on today while my heart was racing

"All we are is dust in the wind."

Wisdom I needed to hear after the results came in.

I spent days sleeping to prepare me

for the very long nap ahead

The irony of it all is that only just a month ago

I elected to someday become a Death Doula

It's good practice

I think to myself

To start with my own inevitable end

 

DENIAL

Do not deny what is inevitable

All things that are must also unbecome

You never really know when that is

Humans have a way of permancency

Forgetting that we are ephemeral

 

ANGER

Rage is a way to heal

I burned like a wildfire for many days

Letting the landscape of my knowing

Char over and die

The sprouts of acceptance have just begun to emerge

 

BARGAINING

I begged the goddess of life and Earth

"A little more time is all I need!"

But her laughter echoed in the wind

How greedy could I be

The ladybug in my window begged as well

 

DEPRESSION

Alone on a cold hard floor

I rocked like an isopod ball

The floodwaters released

All points seemed dull

And yet, I was still there

 

ACCEPTANCE

This morning I slept unusually long

Pain welling up in my body

But the pain validated me- I can still feel

I am still here, through laboured breaths

I thank the goddess for another moment

 

I wake and enjoy my cup of coffee as thought it is my last

The warmth of the dish water soothes me

My houseplants are happy in the sun rays

I write things that come to mind as I work

And this poem arises in acceptance

 

The coming of death is an existential trip

But in that darkness is a silver lining

Cliche as it may be

I am beginning to live with what's left

As truly as ever I did

 

GRATITUDE

For all the pains and all the sorrows

I have known so many more joys

Of a heart full of love and the most passionate kisses

Of smiles and laughter fits

Green gardens and the sweetest fruits

Rolling rivers and birdsong

The crisp air at the summit

The warmth of soil between my toes

Of satisfaction at works completed

Stories read and written

 

I am my own Death Doula

Through this poetry I take my hand

As I walk from this life to the next

 

 

Champion

by Nimhue Willow

 

My champion road to me on a cold Winter's night

His steed a blue Honda Civic

Which got stuck in the neighbor's snowbank

He climbed the queen's tower 

And presented me with the gift of breath

Together we lost ourselves in smoke and time

Every night we hadn't known eachother a tragedy

For that evening was all we ever needed

I asked him while we sat at the foot of my bed,

"If you could do anything- what would you do?"

Without missing a heart's beat, he said

"Kiss you." And so he did.

 

The kisses he gives me today are just as tender as that

For the love we planted that night has only grown

Each season becoming more diverse

The things we grow in our garden often surprise us

But we've stewarded this land well

He is my champion and I am his queen

My mirror, my reflection

Every spell I cast is read back to me 

Whose turn is it to be the light?

Tonight I'll hold you to my chest

Fingers making their way through obsidian curls

While the drum of my heart sings away your fears

Tomorrow will be my turn and you'll 

spread your wings around me

Singing as you do every morning

Filling my heart with joy

 

There is no better teacher than love

I knew this when I was born

For as a little girl I wished upon stars and dandelions

That someday I'd meet my other half

When he came, he showered me with gifts

Calm, confidence, courage

I learned to love myself through his eyes

Learned to love others through him

Whatever happens in years to come 

Even if death do us part

I can rest easy knowing that this love

was ours.

 

 

Things I Don't Understand

by Nimhue Willow

 

I know a woman who hates poets

Those are her own words.

It's a beat around the bush way to say "I hate you."

 

A big truck speeds past us - we're already going 8 over

He flips us off and screams

We catch up to him at the next red light

 

A man once told me the books I like are "girly"

What's girly about horses with horns and man-eating lizards?

And what a strange way to say you don't like girls.

 

Every four years my country gets a new face

Who undoes what the last one undid from the one before him

I know a woman could multitask, cleaning up while starting something new

 

When I sell my lifetime, I pay a portion

Then when I buy something, I pay a portion on top of what I pay.

Then in January, I pay again since I didn't pay enough before.

 

A truck rattles past me on the highway

Carrying tomatoes from Mexico to package in California

To bring to my store in Maine, in July

 

We are the only mammals who are bothered by sweat

Do you know the elk pisses on himself to attract a mate?

And yet, I'm repulsed by the man in line who hasn't discovered deodorant

 

Cake, cigarettes, cheese dip, coffee, speeding, unprotected sex

We're smart enough to know what isn't good for us

Why do bad things come in tantalizing packages?

 

There isn't enough time in the day, what with work and all

Yet people still scroll through their feeds, sucked into the black void

Living vicariously through clips while they sit idol

 

People hate cooking and dishes

But homecooked meals are always highly praised 

And half the fun of the destination is the journey

 

You do know nothing is ever really gone?

Trash doesn't disappear - it just becomes someone elses' problem

The black and brown people you say matter have to deal with it instead

 

I am 26 and I still don't drive

Apparently that's the worst thing you can do

But I still get around- I have legs after all

 

Maybe when I'm older I'll understand.

 

 

 

The Real World

by Nimhue Willow

 

When I rose this morning my heart was heavy with dread

Right upon waking thoughts littered my head

The medicine is out there, it’s what I’ll do instead

of being caught in the world wide web

 

Stepping outside the dwelling is relearning how to breathe

The wyld world around me shows me how to see

when my eyes have shaded over from looking at the screens

And I’ve forgotten how to be free

 

There is no learning quite like soil on the toes

No better listener than cattails hearing woes

Conversation comes naturally when you’re chatting with the crows

And I find it easy to listen to the songs the woodpecker knows

 

Lying down in the prairie grass I let my soul fly

Soaring through the cumulus in a tranquil powder sky

The questions here have answers, I no longer seek the why

Though I’m sure that life’s purpose does not include “buy”

 

A starlit night is a map through space and time

The winds from each direction carry songs and ancient rhyme

Fireflies illuminate and dance over water’s shine

I am grateful to be a part of Earth’s living design

 

 

 

The Spiral

by Nimhue Willow

 

Will the plot change

When I turn the page?

Can the rains put out

Your wildfire rage?

Or are we stuck in the spiral dance

Sharp words are a piercing lance

Blame falls off you like strips of clothes

Nameless many who you loathe

My heart aches for you, bearer of the curse

From a lineage of women who’ve had it worse

But fate is not writ when we are born

It can be mended what was torn

The poison river stopped with me

Now I’ve turned around and I can see

That upriver the damage is vast

How long exactly will it last?

As the candle wick burns on the other end

There is no time left to spend

On grudges, hate, animosity

Choose love, forgiveness, reciprocity

 

Will the plot change

When I turn the page?

Or will it burn up

Cinders, ash, flame?

 

 

 

Quiet

by Nimhue Willow

 

Tick tick tick time flies by

Whish, wash tears of a cry

Never quiet as cars drive past

A moment of silence never lasts

Music is not music to my ears

It fills the airspace and my fears

Every store and house and ride 

Loud- my patience is tried

Advertisements solicit in my thoughts

Subconscious consumed by what it’s wrought

A constant dialogue fills the air

So we can’t hear what’s really there

Click, slam, honk- I must get away

From bombarding noise and radio waves

My cry for help is subdued in sound

Echoes of humanity ripple around

Diving deep into the murky blue

For a moment it is all subdued

Reassurance from my heart’s thudding beats

I can hear my own thoughts, though buried deep

I swim up to a riverbank and stand ashore

Would have drowned to hear no more

In the freedom of the forest there is peace

Solitude is my silent release

The birds do not try to sell me things

I hear only their melody and flap of wings

The rustle of aspens does not command attention

Sounds from the Earth have no maligned intention

So with my back to a tree I can finally rest

No more din for my patience to test

Chirp, zeeee, who cooks for you

Music to my ears I’ll gladly listen to

 

 

 

Oil

by Nimhue Willow

 

A creature whose ancestors have existed for 200 million years longer than ours

Takes its fatal first steps, born into darkness as it emerges from the sands

The surface is an impermeable - choking black void, which poisons all it touches

Earth’s acidic lifeblood, harvested without consent from deep within

It floats most wastefully atop cerulean waters, obscuring the sea’s only light

The men who rape the Earth for oil are the same who will drop bombs for it

All for it to be flushed away. They only count the death toll if it’s human and white.

As long as gas prices are low we can all look away- to vote is enough

I’d light a candle in vigil for those marine souls suffocated

but I’m afraid the surface might 

catch fire

 

 

 

I come from the place of lighthouses

by Nimhue Willow

 

Grampy Jim’s hutch is filled with ephemera

Of lighthouses and fisherman in mackintosh

Sand dollars, seaglass, and sundries

I believed once that all Grampys were sailors

Braving the ocean for adventure and bounty

I imagined him reeling in lobster traps

And beeming next to a colossal tuna

His truth was working at the hotels

Abandoned tchotchke rescued nightly

But we really do come from the place of lighthouses

And if his collection means nothing else

It stands as a symbol of all I want to be

A guiding light for those lost at sea

Everything that he ever was

 

 

To Be

by Nimhue Willow

 

What is this pull - the ache in my hips

longing to bloom and give nectar

that suddenly at twenty six

I feel an emptiness I long to fill

 

It goes against all logic and reason

because the Earth has told me

for us there is no tomorrow

my child's grandmother is dying

 

To hand the weight of the world to my daughter

is asking her to take up the challenge

of finding everlasting peace and happiness

in the valley of the shadow of death

 

Yet, I am an animal

and my body has an agenda of its own

the eggs of my grandaughter exist in my womb

waiting patiently for me to open the door

 

I look at my lover standing before me

powerful and erect and in love

every embrace a choice to be made

we can live and we can love, but will we share?

 

 

Divine Words

by Nimhue Willow

 

Revelations revealed as the word write themselves

This pen has a mind of its own

Poetry is divination

Scrying into the parchment, aged pages reveal a forest's wisdom

the words that suffocate beneath the surface of dreams

have a chance to come up for air

What is it that you want me to know?

Mysteries unveiled like a dress drops to the floor

Truths I pretended not to know

Pain is released with each click of the morphine pen

Poetry is divination

The gods speak to me in wind and prayers for rain answered

through tree roots and the urge to love all things

But their words are clearest not in reflections on still water

but channeled through the pen

like a planchette on a ouija board

Each page of the notebook a chapter of my life

The fates have woven with my words

Poetry is divination

 

 

Walk Away

by Nimhue Willow

 

Reach

for something you're not sure is there

Climb

Chutes and ladders along a man made map

Work

'Till your feet swell and your bones ache

 

You are nothing if not a number, they say

Born to play this game, you're sent on your way

Deaf to the voices of our ancestor's friends

You forgot because your parents never told you

The wisdom had to be put away

for another time

 

Are these songs inside me a story returned?

Checked back into the sacred library

The day I walked out of a job and just kept walking

I heard the muses in the hymns of birds

Serenading me with reassurance

The way is one foot in front of the other

Off the back of the black serpent - into the meadow

"Find yourself here" sings the lark

who sees the big picture from his skyward roost

He has kindly held the story for me all along

 

I remember now

 

 

Gone

by Nimhue Willow

 

When I am gone,

Wash my body with kisses

 

Don't let go of my hand

as my soul walks to the next good thing

 

Let them have time with me

to understand that the body is just a form

 

The sun and I should embrace once more

it gets dark once you're planted

 

Bury me in my own temple

Nakedness is a fear of the living

 

When I am gone,

do me a favor, and love one another

love a little extra for me, would you?