Tag: Los Lagos

poetry

majority advice

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majority advice

a majority of the time
when the minority warns you
that you are behaving badly
it is not only so but also
you have revealed that you understand
such a minority of the minority’s experiences
that you have not only been careless
but careless to the degree of warranting correction
warranting notification of the nonsense
of your nonidentification
with the minority’s concerns
and then
in the majority of cases
the major actions you must take are:
first, do no further harm –
do not defend your mostly indefensible ignorance;
second, apologize for the wounds (intentional or un-) you have created
or (more likely) further inflamed;
third, apologize for the effort your edification has cost someone
who undoubtedly has better things to do;
fourth, listen attentively and humbly to the majority of this other viewpoint,
even if you only see it by squinting;
fifth, live your life differently, eyes a little wider, viewfinder a little more sensitive, field of view a little larger;
sixth, help someone else from your frame of reference
also see things with this new frame
at least a majority of the time

poetry

Katalapi

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Katalapi

en el bosque
con las Cotes
el agua canta por nosotros

the notes, rapid and green,
clear away the cobwebs between ourselves
leave us feeling
like we’ve drunk from a cool spring
freshen our eyes
and still our thirsty tongues

we make ephemeral circles
understanding nothing lasts
understanding also joy is the honey
that keeps us flying into the thistles

the most powerful thing I did today
was share breath con un canelo
and put a tiny, black, shriveled seed
into the earth –
now something might someday root

poetry

sitting still

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sitting still

sitting with the pain of the world
I stroke Syd’s flipper
pat his back
listen
while the ocean pours out of him

it doesn’t matter so much
where our brokenness lies
where the blows came from
how they were dealt

we most need
to sit with each other’s pain
bear witness to
the immense hurt
we sometimes cannot even name
and recollect
the strong resilient beings we are
able to knit our fractured selves
back together
sometimes with even
more abiding bonds
if only we can remove
our breastplates first
and be vulnerable
together

poetry

when the land was wild

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when the land was wild

había otra vez
in a thin country
bound by sea and spines
where ghost ships sailed
and sirens still sang
a race of tiny deer
the size of tomcats
with delicate antlers
spotted sides
and rounded bottoms

había otra vez
in the pure rushing waters
turquoise white and green
a cat of the river
half a man’s size
playful and inquisitive
its sensitive whiskers ever active
and its cheeks always stretched
into a grinning half smile

había otra vez
in the dark forest
where spiderwebs were like stairsteps
ascending into sky
an impossibly grand woodpecker
so brilliant when it landed
the alerce trees ignited
and it dripped sparks
across the beings of this country

of course
this was all in a different time
far younger than now
when the land was still wild
and the legends were true
now all we feel is absence
the cold shadow of loss
where warm flesh once was

Uncategorized

Leap Day

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Leap Day

the leftover fragments of other years
cobbled together
to make an impulsive day
beyond the capability
of my wristwatch to reconcile

what did we pour into
this freebie grabbag of hours?

a luminous sunrise
over islands over water
firing the wood paneling
of our little cabin

watching penguins from our breakfast
of warm rolls dotted with butter
melting to pools

looking for pudús (always)

watching metallic green hummingbirds
zip from fuchsia to pine bough

rambling down the beach path
to join the penguins on the water

taking in the black and white
volcanoes across the way
that mark the continent’s spine

entering the blue white yellow
Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de Chonchi
watching the stars wink
above a sea of incense and prayers

coming into Queilén, a warm haven
where the sea can sing to you
and the moon is tipped
in an unfamiliar way

every day is an uncertain gift
each date one that might never arrive
but some are imbued
with a bit more magic
sometimes we have the sense
to savor the day’s passing
before regret can even rise

poetry

adolescent boys

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adolescent boys

slowly I must remove
the stones from their eyes

how to do this with kindness and patience
not panic and shock?

one by one
I reveal the world’s wounds

trying to balance each truth
with a modicum of sunlight

trying to remain
someone they’ll speak to without squirming

trying to prepare them
for the brutality they can’t close their eyes to

trying to remind them
their choices can change our path

trying to teach them
the joy of being gentle
even in a violent world

poetry

thank you, Maker Table Makers

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thank you, Maker Table Makers

my children make me a picture
of what’s worth protecting
but they miss themselves

moments later there they are
spitting with the effort
required to stay afloat

here I will build
a wall of light around them
a fiery band of love
that they can always call home:

whatever they do is enough
whoever they are, they’re loved

poetry

standing declaration

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Graham’s penstemon photo by Susan Meyer. White-tailed ptarmigan photo by Owen.

standing declaration

Do you believe in a creator
who intends that humans should
act as guardians of creation?

my chest opens
and frozen birds fall out
my lips part
and fuzzy orange tongues
lisp yes yes yes
my hands clench and unclench
in an angry motion like prayer
all signifying
who have we become
when we must swear in a court of law
that we still believe
in the righteousness of compassion
before scientists can do their job?

tonight while sleep stifles me
I’ll do my own work
dreaming of penstemons and ptarmigans
in a paradise devoid of people
where they’re left to sing their own songs
make sun into sugar into flight
just for the pure joy of being
not to do a single ape good

poetry

beginner

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beginner

en español
I learn
to loose my tongue
to make mistakes
in a loud enough voice
to say what I need
I am no longer above
committing grave grammatical errors
changing tenses genders numbers
in the most haphazard unsophisticated way
I am being brave and humble enough
to open my mouth
and let imperfections stream out
while someone nods kindly
understanding just what is needed
from the way I move my hands

poetry

rainy day ramblings

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rainy day ramblings

i

am I doing enough
to earn my time here?
(and, is it possible to also read a book?)

ii

rain on rose petals
silver linings everywhere

iii

companion = [with] [bread]
this also delimits my friend/acquaintance line:
who can I invite in next
to serve a warm thick slice?
the words around us bear
the weight of deep meanings
we don’t even bother consciously knowing

from now on companion will have
a more complex, savory taste
every time it rolls around my mouth