Archives for October 2016

Poem of the Week: Mendocino Revisited

Christine Horner
Alameda/Diablo Branch, CA

 

This place is different
every time we come, new,
wind-washed, sea-beaten.

Old woods are eaten
larger in every pore, the grain
exposed more deeply.

Birds have forgotten the strain
of yesterday’s song in their wings,
the better to ride today’s wind.

The sea slips blithely away with the sand
that would hold her, ensuring each tide
must come to a beach rearranged.

And, the waves, as well, we know
can only appear to be
exactly alike, yet we

return again
and again, each time
thinking ourselves unchanged.

 

Poem of the Week: Lydia (1761)

Margaret Leis Hanna, Central Ohio Branch
Written after reading the historical novel, Widow’s War, by Sally Gunning

 

She walks the shore

Stripped of her husband
she searches
solace on sand.

Breathes salt air
Where
Water suffocated him.

Arms across
hollow heart
she suffers the unwanted.

As waves before her
Love and loss
Ebb and flow

As limitless horizons
Anger and grief
Stretch through her

As moonlight on stilled seas
Calmness and acceptance
Cloak her.

Love brings her
Weeping and walking
Where water widowed her.

 

 

Poem of the Week: Native

Nancy Haskett, Modesto, CA Branch President

 

Dakota, Choctaw, Wampanoag, Comanche –

names that echo off canyon walls,

blow in the wind over prairies,

rise fiercely from flames of burned villages

in smoke as ephemeral as government promises

proven false.

Warriors, weavers, hunters, herders,

once their drums were the heartbeat of this nation

they called home

before they lost the land,

sacrificed it in trade for horses, guns,

measles, smallpox,

boundless land exchanged

for desolate reservations,

countless lives lost in vain.

Yet, the names live on

as we speak the places:

Ma-sa-chu-sett, Minnesota, Monongahela,

Tehachapi, Narragansett, Rappahannock –

as we breathe life into the names

every day

 

the land remembers

 

Poem of the Week: Suitable Companion

Christina Laurie, West Falmouth, Cape Cod, MA
Cape Cod Branch, president

 

(Genesis 2:18 – on the eve of my 50th birthday)

 

Seven times seven
I have replaced each cell
and now turn over the leaf
of yet another year –
a new woman once again.

Yet still I am a part
of that primordial Eve
created out of dust and drib—
the Adam split
to form a new wo-man;
creation of the Creator,
“Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh.”

I am soil, tissue and muscle
and life-giving breath.
Love me
I am a new creation.