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Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone

~ a wild and sacred journey

Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone

Category Archives: prayer

The rest

06 Sunday May 2018

Posted by feralpoet in abundance, becoming, devotion, family, honoring, movement, mystery, night, poems, poetry, prayer, presence, receiving, release, welcoming, wonder, work

≈ Comments Off on The rest

An initiation ritual,

in the dusk-scape of dream,

of shared finery, costume, camaraderie,

and non-blood family

emerging from here, over there,

here, here, there

unexpectedly,

for the me before me,

with a gathering of eager others,

to mark time with life.

Saying no, no but I am not she

not anymore

no–

But as beads pass over head, and colors add up,

layers of feather, bone, cloth

none mine

each display on this body

currently

a light in mind shifts-

not for me

but she

who may pass through, closing

beginning years, finally,

in step with those knowing when it is meant to happen.

Dressed, prepared, without doubts,

I walk the procession.

To celebrate.

To say goodbye.

To welcome all the rest.

The whole warm night through

07 Wednesday Mar 2018

Posted by feralpoet in dreams, listen, nature, night, poems, poetry, prayer

≈ Comments Off on The whole warm night through

A frog in the front garden,

between snow storms,

has much to say:

First, forget the plans-

they were a ruse anyway.

Second, recall sunrise

and the songbirds’ melodious chittering.

Third, fourth, fifth,

forget the numbers,

holding on is holding back.

And then he busts into chorus

the whole warm night through

and a memory of what’s to come

sands a path deep into sleep,

wishing a good slumber

to one and to all~

In the saddle

06 Saturday Jan 2018

Posted by feralpoet in adventure, becoming, break out, change, discomfort, honoring, learning, listen, movement, mystery, nature, poems, poetry, prayer, transition, wonder

≈ Comments Off on In the saddle

At a beginning,

with the closest solitary prayer being

“I don’t know,”

my hips work to keep the rest of me in the saddle.

Movements in the sky-

valley fog, and clouds weaving high through the hills-

live their nature in waves, currents, and vanishings,

grand teachings of the cycles of continual change.

Sometimes, I wish I knew.

But, unintentionally, artfully, that greatest illusion

has been set on the shelf-

a furry trickster friend

who flashes me a smile, and snaps his tail

at the most wicked, and absurd times.

I don’t know becomes

a delicate, gritty daily worship.

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