THE LONGING

Artwork created by Merissa Garrison

THE LONGING


I was nearly asleep when the earth cast its
shadow on the winter white moon.


I could feel the past move over my shoulder
in a chill wind brought forth from the mirror.


“Enjoy Yourself!” the past rang out from a little
ancient bell that sits in a land of wings and lost poetry.


“Enjoy Yourself!” the past pleaded with me, as I slept
with the poets of antiquity biting at my heels and heart.


Once, my mother asked me to find her some moon roses
when she wasn’t feeling beautiful anymore.


“Enjoy Yourself!” That same bell had rung out to my mother
as she had graciously smiled a “company smile” at all of them.


“Enjoy Yourself!” It had pleaded with her, as she sat and watched
all the other women ask my father to dance with them.


And now that the moon has moved in beside me, and the poets
have given up the fight, I am at peace with all of this.


Anyway, I cannot think of it anymore…my mother’s New Year
spent in longing - for all those shining days along the river.

JUST BELIEVE!

JUST BELIEVE!

There is fairy music in the night
And a brush of wings in silvery light.

A big old moon with a wintry glow
Making glittery sparkles on the snow.

The big reindeer now fairly prances
He’s ready to fly while a vision dances.

So with a fanfare of horn, drum, and banjo
Santa lifts the reigns and laughs – Let’s go!

Into the dark and wild sky they race
Magically tricking time and space.

Around the world in just one night
Oh, wish I may and wish I might

See that old elf on his way
Across the heavens in his sleigh!


~ Christmas Blessings to All ~

A WINTER LONG PAST

A WINTER LONG PAST


Trudging in snow as heavy as sand,
I pressed on toward those memories
Of lost winter games,
And breath forming crystals
On window panes
Like magic barnacles.


The bitter cold, then, made my legs
Burn and itch by the fire.
I raked the frozen cells
With my fingernails
Until trails of blood appeared.


My hair was damp and icy
Under the heavy wool
That imprinted vertical
Lines on my mind.


I had been the fox in the field,
Running in the heavy snow
To catch a rabbit slow.
Cunning in my slyness –
Running in my shyness –
I caught the sluggish ones,
Who lived nearby.


But, that was years ago.
Now the snow that I struggle through
Is just snow – a nuisance – a drudgery.
I watch as a single snowflake,
As huge as the moon, falls silently
On my infant’s warm cheek
And melts instantly away.

I HAUL THINGS

Relief Sculpture by Merissa Garrison

I HAUL THINGS


I haul things.
I drag them behind me
from place to place,
from year to year.
They are becoming
a mountain of
remembering,
casting a shadow
on all four sides of me.


the shadow on the first side

For years, I hid behind
burgundy flowers of dusty damask,
enclosed in a chamber of glass,
looking at the world
through my own fingerprints.
When the real sun had given up,
the artificial one would take its place
above the elm trees, stippled with disease.


the shadow on the second side

When I held myself up
in the afternoon light,
I saw my reflection on
the silver side of leaves.
The sun set my hair on fire,
which slowly baked my brain
and made me sleepy.
I drifted off to fairyland,
where everything sparkled
and where I felt inviolate.

the shadow on the third side.

We stayed for years under
a catalpa tree. I stretched
out beside you in spring,
summer, winter and fall.
Once, when I was heavy
with child, you planted
watermelons beneath the tree.
Soon, they were climbing the
rock wall and disturbing my sleep.


the shadow on the fourth side

My birthday came cold
and late in the day. My gifts
were a blue sky from Germany,
fans from the Orient, an owl
from the enchanted woods, and
words – given to me by an old
friend from the Netherlands,
to help me make it through
one more bleak winter.


I haul things.
I drag them behind me
from place to place,
from year to year.
They are becoming
a mountain of
remembering,
casting a shadow
on all four sides of me.

CHENOA ON THE RESERVATION

CHENOA ON THE RESERVATION


with her breath she
drew
an eagle with a
fish
in its talons
soaring
in the quiet
ether


above the powder
river
over the bighorn
mountains
into the dreams of her
youth
where elk sheep deer
bison


and the real people
lived
in peace and respect
quietly
in love with mother
earth
and with one
another

FROM "THE SISTER POEMS" SERIES

The Star by Edgar Degas

JO


hello dreamer
you were the dancer
on sleek legs
of muscles hewn
on toes of hope
on dusty floors
arms outstretched
in a pose of
crucifixion
twirling magically
and then dying


cool ivory skin
smooth like glass
I touched you then
but did not know you
but I loved your magic


in you I saw
the reality of dreams
the beauty of youth
the ever stretching hope
of things to come
and the world as mine


you were me
and I was you
we didn’t know it then
until arm against arm
we saw the reflection