BENEATH SKIES

(Woman in Fields by Musin Yohan)

She will bend

beneath skies

fraught with

fallen angels

Her sight stolen

as soon as she

strains to see

past the edge

of now

Beyond

the parameters

of yesterday.

And in her

gown woven

from memories

as solemn

as prayer

or baptism

she will

wander blindly

through fields

stripped bare

of growing

things...

Picking her

way carefully

through rutted rows

carrying kindling

bits high

upon her head

Doomed to

endless traipsing,

endless

carrying on.

ALL I WANT IS A GOOD OLD PEACE MARCH

So they came to me all fired up, with that look in their eyes

That I remember so well, that I haven’t seen in mine for years
And their words spilled out on top of each other as they fair
Bubbled over with excitement as they contemplated this new idea
They had – well they weren’t quite that naive – they knew it wasn’t
Really brand new but they also knew it hadn’t been done on a large
Scale for some time and they think they’ve figured out a way to do it big
And when they said big, they meant huge – they said, we want to march
For Peace, oh and Non-Violence too, if we’re going to do it– let’s do it

So we put the kettle on and some of us opened wine or beer, and I settled
Back and started listening, then started reading their material; then
After a very short while, I picked up my phone and called a few close friends
Told them they better get on over to my house, the peace train was about
To run again and we needed to get on board I thought, but I wanted more
Than just a second opinion, I wanted a third, a fourth and more, if you please
And I don’t think I imagined it, the ripple of excitement I heard, just behind
The first “mmmhmms?” that were definitely tinged with years of scepticism
Bred of cynicism and age, in my view, perfectly understandable, having come
From there myself – however, when I started tossing out numbers and names

Of some of those, already signed on, there were these little pockets of silence
And then, inevitably, the acquiesces - the agreeing to come over for just a bit;

In less than thirty minutes, even those that lived the furthest away, had arrived.

As is true of many a fine idea, this one was simple at its core
A World March for Peace and Non-Violence, that would kick off in New Zealand
On the anniversary of Ghandi’s birth, October 2 – and after wending its way
From and continent to continent, and country to country– the march would end
On January 2, at the base of the Andes Mountains in Argentina
When I asked how many people would actually march all those places,
They told me, it would be a symbolic core group of between 20 and 100 people
Then, one of them took out his laptop and showed me the map
With all the countries signed on and explained how marches will take place

along the way every single day of the three months between October and January
Every day, somewhere in the world, sometimes more than one place
There will be a march or a sporting event or a country fair or the opening of an art gallery
And each time one of these things happens,  it will be done in the name of this march

Then, he showed me their newsletters and more people already endorsing the march

Admittedly, I was impressed – it’s not every day you see the Dalai Lama,

and the President of Chile,
Yoko Ono and Desmond Tutu cheek by jowl with Viggo Mortensen, Art Garfunkel 

and Amnesty International...
So - obvious question – what do you need with me – it seems this is going well
Well indeed, they nodded, but not so much in this part of our country
Besides, we’ve heard stories about – back in the day
My friends are exchanging knowing looks a few chuckles
I wonder who’s sold me out; decide it might’ve been my kids ...

Anyway, they continue, we don’t want to be left behind, we want to mobilize,

do our part, you know?
Of course I know – remember well, living at the other end of this country
And travelling to New York at times to march, although Toronto wasn’t bad for protests
In the 60’s and 70’s and it looks like it’s going to be holding its own again this go round
But, I agree, there is no reason the capital city of this fair province cannot lead the way
For the west – not B.C. of course – they probably know more about parades then the rest of us
Put together – but for the prairies to the mountains – we will pull it together
We will overcome, whatever there is to overcome, and we will march in the name of peace
Ahh – and I thought being a grandma was going to be exciting...who knew this other was coming?

This was written during the run-up to the March for Peace and Non-Violence, several years ago,an incredibly successful world-wide project that did unite all the continents, hundreds of countries and cities around the planet and garnered interest and conscious-ness raising in such diverse groups as professional soccer teams in Europe and elementary schools in the Philippines...as mentioned in the poem - it began on Gandhi's birthday on October 2nd in New Zealand and ended on January 2nd in Argentina. (this site was chosen partially because it was the birthplace of the founder of the march and partly because it was a natural end to circumnavigating the globe.)

TREES DYING IN ICE

  

In the photo the girl is taking a picture

An old-fashioned camera held to her eye

And all about her a fairyland of crystal;

Trees, bushes, buildings outlined

Even in black and white, everything

Shimmers in the sunlight, everything

Glimmers and sparkles like crystal

It is only after careful examination

That the eye registers the awkward

Un-natural angle of tree-branches

And whole rows or trees lying down

As if shot by firing squads and all of them

Iced over thickly until it is impossible to tell

Where one stops and another begins

The ice-storm came in the dark of night

With the winds high, howling wildly

And sleet sheeting down in copious amounts

The ice built up, layering the wood

Until its groans could be heard even

Over the storm’s cacophony – wood dying

Groans and moans deeply but in the end

Booms as loud as thunder when the ice

Takes its life – whether amputating limb

By large limb, or going right to the heart

And chopping it down at the trunk

Ultimately, the sound so like that of a rifle

Report ends with old growth forest being

Brought to its knees and no matter

How beautifully the storm dresses the result

The damage is fatal and irreparable

SIFTING THROUGH YOUR LIFE

Finally tomorrow, we hold your memorial

And it's time, past time really;  I don't regret

The three weeks between your death

And the day we remember you -

For various reasons it was a necessity

But now, we need to have the thing

At least do this part of the process

So we can move forward, I know you

Would agree

So - after a week of writing out abbreviated

Versions of your life to fit with obituary stylings

And still honour your wishes, plus a memorial card

And an Order of Service - all similar but none

Exactly the same, we are on the cusp of ready

But not quite; now there is the business

Of assembling a tasteful grouping of items

For a table to be placed in the narthex at the church

Some things that will be representative of you

and your life but not overly so, and nothing tacky

Something that memorial attendees may gaze

Upon before and after the service whilst waiting

A turn to sign the visitor's guest book, proof

Positive that yes, they did indeed show up

For this, or before they queue up for coffee, tea

Or sweets, after the service, prepared

By your lovely Ladies Guild who insisted

On doing everything "because it was no trouble"

Or maybe while they wait to speak with family

Yours is not large and depending on crowd size

It may take time if one wants to chat for any length

Of time

So - what of your eight-seven years would you find

Appropriate for this table? Your eldest grandchild

Has an inspirational thought and one we all

Agree on - for Christmas she bought you a digital

Camera frame, one you regrettably did not live

Long enough to enjoy - she offers to download

Pictures of you and your family to run continuously

During the period we are at the church - we all concur

You had mentioned you might like your book on display

And of course we'll honour that wish - you were,

After all, a published author - and your book saw

Two different runs - both versions will be displayed

With some photos of you as a celebrity author

We were prouder of you then probably than any

Other time - your stint as "The Doll Lady" was such

A wonderful time and made more so because

You took it upon yourself to speak out against

Racism and you did it with your book and your talks

In such a way that school kids understood and "got it"

And you never made money from all that speech-making

And travelling - only the rare honorarium - and did your book

Ever make royalties? Probably not enough to cover

Your cross-Canada research trips but you so enjoyed

Both the work and the results - a good time in your life

Maybe a few photos of your church in its infancy

For only a very few new members would not know

That this church where your memorial is being held

Is quite literally "your" church - when you moved

To Edmonton and found out this group were meeting

In a school but had a parcel of land left to them

In a will - land they were about to lose if they didn't

Get busy and build on it - what did you do?

Of course - contacted the powers that be - got permits

Marshalled those that could do such things

Got the hole dug and in less than a year ...

"Grandma's Church" was no longer meeting in the school

Not something we can put on the table

But certainly something that typifies your determination

And initiative - although, it won't happen tomorrow

Because it's still winter here and the ground

Is frozen hard as cement but - when my Dad died

You decided you wanted him near you - got your church

Fathers or deacons - whatever they're called

To approach the city and get the land around the building

Consecrated, for heaven's sake (no pun intended)

They (the city) wouldn't go as far as making it an actual cemetery

Which was fine with you - you didn't want gravestones

There anyhow - feel it invites vandalism - how sad is that

Just wanted to be able to bury Dad's ashes beneath a tree

Near one of the side doors of the church - we all have a map

Then add yours there when you die which, of course

Means - as soon as the ground is workable, we will

Be planting you there as well ...

And finally, after that, I guess - we will be done ...