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Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone

~ a wild and sacred journey

Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone

Category Archives: Creating

Black

09 Wednesday Nov 2016

Posted by feralpoet in becoming, break out, change, courage, Creating, dark, Healing, listen, mystery, pain, poems, poetry, strength, the road, transition

≈ Comments Off on Black

Black

is every color

crammed

in space too tight for light.

Our sickness

produces severe symptoms;

Projecting our own shadows on others

will keep us from finding our way through.

With the box now open,

the last of its contents spilled

into collective view,

comes the greatest need yet

for- yes- willingness and

a strong stomach (as it writhes),

but also

a softening of our individual, concreted ways and

an enlivening of curiosity and connection.

Where we go from here

is up

to all of us.

Fill our days

30 Sunday Oct 2016

Posted by feralpoet in abundance, becoming, break out, change, courage, Creating, devotion, freedom, gratitude, honoring, Immortal, joy, listen, mundane, nature, poems, poetry, presence, Sight, vision

≈ Comments Off on Fill our days

What if we were as fierce
about seeing
finding
knowing beauty
as ugliness, fear, and lack?
Would we not become greater protectors
of the overlooked and precious?
Would our focus not
change
from what we want to avoid
to that asking
for further creation?
From being barefoot on rain-soaked earth
while sun breaks clouds overhead,
to cinnamon in coffee,
the perfect heat of a shower,
sustained note of a well-played cello,
to strangers reaching for each other’s hands,
and friends who have plenty to eat,
a car that starts,
the woodpecker we’d like to curse
for waking us out of sleep-only-
its tapping brought us a view of the sunrise,
and places in existence where peoples
are honored and heard.
Wouldn’t the goodness flood us
even if
nothing else could we sense but
the beating of our own heart-
wouldn’t miracles fill our days?

Keep following

21 Friday Oct 2016

Posted by feralpoet in Creating, devotion, Inspire, poems, poetry, weaving, work

≈ Comments Off on Keep following

You
to whom strangeness is foreign
in the creative force of living

-from the bubbling,
biting smell of fermenting kimchi,
to the heated twisting of metal
in rough hands capable
of leaving can’t and wrong and won’t behind-

Keep following
those peripheral ribbons of inspiration.
The crumbs of the yeah-butts
couldn’t possibly do.

Any other

30 Friday Sep 2016

Posted by feralpoet in abundance, adventure, becoming, break out, change, Creating, Deliverance, devotion, discomfort, freedom, learning, movement, nature, poems, poetry, release, story, strength, the road, transition, work

≈ Comments Off on Any other

A rock stands in your path.
A big one.
It’s the same damned rock you’ve walked smack into countless times,
decade after decade,
despite the changing terrain.
You walk the mapless territory, silently, wondering… how on earth?
Do you go around?
Climb over?
Finally hammer the blasted thing to pieces?
Your choice, always.
Fun part is-
this time
your decision may be unlike
any other.

Its nature

22 Thursday Sep 2016

Posted by feralpoet in abundance, adventure, beauty, becoming, break out, change, crafting, Creating, Expanse, honoring, Immortal, movement, nature, poems, poetry, receiving, release, strength, weaving, wonder, work

≈ Comments Off on Its nature

Being an untamed tributary

of a river whose origin reaches far 

into depths unkown

brings twists of bramble,

leaping fish,

frog and cricket symphonies,

bats dipping low in twilight-

when settling into quiet lulls.

In rugged young churning-

escaping water

pulls earth, boulder, tree to itself

as passion builds with heavy rains,

filling banks,

carving hungry routes,

chewing civilized lands and

renewing plots left withering.

This tributary is this and more,

trading nothing away

in honor of its nature–

wild, strong and unpossessing.

Ripples

14 Wednesday Sep 2016

Posted by feralpoet in abundance, Creating, Immortal, Infinite, joy, Love, loving, movement, mystery, poems, poetry

≈ Comments Off on Ripples

An act of love is a stone

dropped

into a body of water:

It ripples.

The world may be unresolvable 

but

you can still make waves.

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