Poetry | Stories | Photography
Lightening strikes the old tree;
alone in what once was a forest.
Our lives changed forever that day;
a displaced people, a genocide.
When the wolf arrived, we listened;
we respect the power of the bears.
The settlers didn’t believe our stories;
finery and position were what mattered.
The blood-soaked soil grows corn;
burning fertile fields from a dying planet.
Gathered around the fire
the woodsman came to tell us a story
about a wolf and a raven
The woodsman’s voice
a melodic pagan music to our small ears
delighting imagination
Too young at the time
Unaware of the woodsman’s power over us
I was plagued by dreams
of the old gods, wolves, and our destruction
The woodman’s voice
came to me when the sunset colours bled out
on an ominous night
Too loyal to my family
I stayed despite the incessant booming voice
frightening away life
Gathering up my life
running towards the sea instead of the forest
I resisted his power
and I remained the wolf, not what he wanted
It is cold today.
A cold grey day.
Walking wounded after touching the trees, she sits awhile.
Now, a wounded healer, the trees will restore her strength.
A chalice full of forest air
beneath Petrichor scents
Waiting for the right time
listening for what comes
Beating the forest drums
vibrations and old energy
Waking the forest dead
calling the trees, animals
One holds the chalice high
another call to the wolves
Visions of the old dead
sap runs down the trees
An ethereal shadow moves within the trees to find a long-forgotten clearing.
A loner follows quietly to find something forgotten within.
The shadow and the loner move towards the clearing until only the loner remains.
Moonlight and Fireflies illuminate the trees and the altar as shadows move.
The loner walks towards the altar.
Petrichor Music
Rain notes
Forest music plays as soft falling rain
A pirouette between the trees
Dancing to the sound of forest music
A glimpse
A vision of elegance, a dream of her
A Pack of Two
Forest deep
darkness setting in
tree whispers
A pack of wolves
moving towards the moon
full moon howling
You and I
becoming the story
in the forest
All the light
that you bring to my life
this meaningless life
With you, life is a journey
this pack of two
a kiss for my wolf princess
Footprints in the snow
Followed by a tail and two
paw prints in the snow
we arrive side by side soft
at the forest cathedral
The ceremony is the beginning and the end. Shape-shifting reveals her hidden desires. Wolves in the forest, life and death are interwoven. A foreign voice speaks; unrecognisable, yet it is her own. Smoke and mirrors, horrors and joys are interwoven. Dancing to a silent drum, the forest can feel the energy. Spirits of the dead rise as the world of the living and death blur. A cleansing of herself reveals a cleansing of the forest; they are the same.
Out there in the forest,
running from herself;
determined to hide from him,
even if her teeth rot out of her head.
She will not yield.
Crying alone in the forest;
a wolf appears in the distance
and she is caught off guard.
The tears stop.
She is lost in the fur of a hug and a kiss.
Found, she stands up and walks away;
for so much of her life, she ran from herself.
Now she walks with a friend.
The man with no heart can rot in hell.
C & K 