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Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone

~ a wild and sacred journey

Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone

Category Archives: unlearning

New

18 Thursday Sep 2025

Posted by feralpoet in ancestors, beauty, devotion, grief, Healing, heart, history, home, liberation, Life, medicine, mystery, new, Opening, poems, poetry, question, shame, song, transformation, unlearning, violence, waking, weaving, welcoming, wonder, work, world

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Confusion tumbles out of us,

violence and shame, ever pointing–

over there, over there.

Look in the mirror, friend, we each must

consider our part, the veins of ugliness within,

ignored, denied, pushed away.

Wounds need care,

sunlight and tenderness.

Otherwise, they fester.

None goes unhurt, none walks without darkness

to be held.

Point not that way, and that,

drop the pointer all together.

We are a we, and in it together to reweave

an old, old decaying story into blessing and art,

connection, nourishment and song.

What beauty brings us here now?

What Beauty to be bestowed back to Life?

Ask the ancestors,

they know,

ask the ancestors for help–

healing takes everyone, form and formless alike.

Let the new story begin..

it breaks through already

in the most delightful, unexpected ways.

Sometimes

23 Wednesday Jul 2025

Posted by feralpoet in Awareness, becoming, break out, fearlessness, freedom, poems, poetry, Power, transformation, unlearning, waking, woman

≈ Comments Off on Sometimes

Sometimes you outgrow things,

understanding an effortless reaching for sun.

Other times, you must take sword to the lashings

of ancient curses binding you,

across chest, around the waist,

pinning you to the prow of a ship–

you, the first to be sacrificed in storm or attack.

Get to know the paralyzing ropes wrapping you raw,

then cut through and burn those fuckers

to the ground.

And dive.

Mother Ocean waits to take you

to shores meant to shelter and delight

in your very being.

Leave the curses to the cursed.

Planting Stones

26 Thursday Jun 2025

Posted by feralpoet in Earth, family, generations, human, movement, offering, Opening, pain, poems, poetry, prayer, release, return, unlearning, walking, woman, wonder, work

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A fresh blood, now, runs from this wound,

dripping thick, womb-blood red,

to thirsty ground.

The trail follows me as I leave,

planting stones.

Each feeds dark Earth,

sticks weapons of their confusion, fast.

My back, low belly, my heart unwilling,

unaccepting soft targets,

half a lifetime on.

Planting stones returns

this deepest and cruel ancestral story

to the Mother who fashions stone into gold,

medallions for witful generations to come.

Flowers may bloom, cool waters may move,

Hummingbird brings those open prayers

to Heaven.

It ends with me.

I walk away into land of blowing dust,

with stars shining straight from the hands of God,

I walk away toward the fire

ever burning on…

Draw nearer

10 Saturday May 2025

Posted by feralpoet in adventure, beauty, companion, Infinite, movement, mystery, poems, poetry, unlearning, welcoming, wonder

≈ Comments Off on Draw nearer

I draw nearer the Unknown.

How can I not,

to be closer to God is this;

Unknown–true Creation.

Not noble or shiny, maybe missing teeth,

limping, dusty and brilliant..

Stay close,

the past can not play out forever,

only mind does that,

read the signs, look for what’s different,

if, at a thought, ice fills your blood

and belly turns sour,

power has been tossed away.

Relax back into change,

those arms wait to hold you,

the generosity of a reliable and beloved friend.

Ride the horse.

Limitations

30 Saturday Dec 2023

Posted by feralpoet in change, Expanse, father, growing, Healing, heart, history, home, learning, leaving, light, movement, poems, poetry, unlearning, vision, waking

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The limitations of our fathers,

they are not ours to live by. See

and be done.

Do

and live beyond.

The next generations are here to end

that which came before.

I gave up pretty

07 Monday Aug 2023

Posted by feralpoet in beauty, break out, change, freedom, loving, nature, poems, poetry, strength, unlearning

≈ Comments Off on I gave up pretty

I gave up pretty for a greater feast,

potato chips and jellybeans turned in.

Wrinkles declare descents into primal deserts,

splotches and patches and spots imprints

of the boot crush of heartbreak,

greys the stories of the non-forgotten.

Pretty hasn’t much to offer

and with it comes trails of trouble,

trials of the kind modern fairy tales

simply can’t grok.

Sweep the threshold

12 Friday May 2023

Posted by feralpoet in freedom, generations, ghosts, grief, home, honoring, movement, poems, poetry, ride, unlearning, welcoming

≈ Comments Off on Sweep the threshold

Sweep the threshold,

unlock the door,

put the busyness away–

what comes is far

too important.

Build a fire,

quiet the house,

all your sensing is required.

Hear the hoof beats?

The full horse breaths?

Mice may scratch in the walls,

spiders rattle the roof,

you’ve nothing to do

but be home.

Movements beneath your skin,

flashes of thought,

quickening heart,

allow them.

This is a welcoming.

You don’t know who approaches

only that they must.

Freedom blooms

as we set

a place for everything.

What you carry in your blood

has voice–

Let her sing.

Changing the seer

02 Thursday Mar 2023

Posted by feralpoet in becoming, change, Deliverance, movement, mystery, poems, poetry, unlearning, wind

≈ Comments Off on Changing the seer

Changing the seer,

the ground beneath and

circulation within,

in asking for this, I surrender,

for candle-flicker

moments.

Yet the moments expand

as a stranglehold of my brain loosens.

Yesterday,

bald eagle sailed–

she really does sail–

through currents of air unseen

while held aloft close to unmoving.

I’ve much to unlearn, hands of habit

to release,

both mine and not.

Ever more is asked of us to become

what we are intended to become.

Watching the slow wave wings

of white bodied, brown feathered eagle,

a glimpse of what magic surrounds us,

the Spirit of which we are made,

up-lifts me too,

reminding me of the spring that never runs dry.

What, then, is born?

28 Friday Oct 2022

Posted by feralpoet in Body, devotion, Loss, offering, pain, poems, poetry, presence, slow, unlearning, weaving, welcoming, wonder, work

≈ Comments Off on What, then, is born?

What, then, is born

of disconnection that bleaches the Soul,

fragments Spirit and sends it flying

never to land,

to land in place where it may feed and be fed,

stoke the tender embers of Beauty herself?

What have we traded to get

things?

Things.

Paper money and all the rest, what is it

but nothing,

nothing, especially

when we make it everything and carve ourselves

and one another up

for more of it?

Call back,

Call back,

Call back yourself.

Call back every shard and ripple,

each precious drop, and voluminous chunk.

None but people bringing themselves back toward wholeness

can right this ship we share.

Please, let us remember,

let us remember all

to bring ourselves

Home again.

How long ago were we taught?

06 Friday May 2022

Posted by feralpoet in break out, community, fear, land, lost, poems, poetry, unlearning

≈ Comments Off on How long ago were we taught?

How long ago were we taught

to fight with our own selves,

to oppress and bind ourselves–

to be better, to be nice, to fit in, to be worthy?

To be successful, accomplished, competent?

Parents aren’t to blame, they were taught the same.

Go back and back and back. . .

and back.

It served something much larger

for us to bash down our own beating hearts and bright,

lit up eyes.

We needn’t be oppressed from out there when

we do it first from the inside.

Go to a job (what a weird requirement)

at the outlet mall so you can live.

Nursing survival fears, real and imagined,

keeps us very busy–and useful–

to systems that cut us from the land,

from the divine,

from one another.

Life has never been, will never be, easy

but isolation,

disconnection,

meaninglessness

are the poisons we serve our own bodies and minds

when chasing and begging for pieces of paper.

Currency.

And the fear of not having enough, or

losing what we have,

ties us in

to beliefs and habits and conditioning

that make television the closest thing

to mother’s milk that we can reach.

Or the bottle.

Nothing is wrong with you. Nothing is wrong with me.

Nothing is wrong with us.

But something is wrong with wedging our precious selves

into tiny spaces, tiny perspectives, tiny versions

at the breath-stealing expense

of our own inborn radiance.

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