On a blanket, given in trade
lies a stone, given by spirit.
Nestling around it are the herbs
I light to carry my prayers into the ether.
In four areas around the smudging pot,
are four stones, four colors,
four totems. Above is my pipe bag.
It is in an area where no one can disturb it;
not even me in my frail-human way.
Here is where I search for dreams,
with aide of tobaccos, woods,
oils, and medicines that promise such.
Answer’s scroll through my sleep
as drum music plays me into teaching time.
Strong people have consecrated these for me
and no other, though medicine bag
placed in crystal singing bowl on another altar
holds these clean for me to use when I must.
On East wall is a wrap given by an East Indian
teacher who read my soul song and sent a gift
From his mother who was giving up her ghost.
He wished a stranger in another country to pray for her.
On South wall is a rough wool blanket received
for sacrifice to Guimi elders in Columbia
and it helps me to remember them
as they struggled for sovereignty.
On west wall is a bear-symbol throw
to remind me of Nootka women stories
of bowl boat teachings to First Woman.
To its side, a mirror that reflects my resemblance to her.
On North wall, my wolf-furred mukluks,
caribou wraps, and my Dene drum
murmur hardships to me and speaks
of how easy my life has been. They rattle.
My sacred room is a place to get away
from common world; a holy place,
the bed an altar of its own. I sleep
and I am told stories while my spirit is undisturbed.
In a list
A contest entry
- Three Jewels of Refuge by ea.
500 points, ended February 22, 2007, 7 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 15 of 15
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Incredible
I found this very beautiful and you stirred my soul with your words. You are very rich indeed, thank you for sharing this bit of yourself.
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You are welcome. There is so much we do not know of each other, for sure. Our poetry adds an intimate glimpse into who we are at our very core, but sometimes we miss out on the rest.
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This is a beautiful journey not only around your very personal sacred room but around the world, encompassing all time and culture in such a way as to let an outsider embrace it. Lovely.
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that is true, ea...this is the msot important part of my life.
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"My sacred room is a place to get away
from common world; a holy place,
the bed an altar of its own. I sleep
and I am told stories while my spirit is undisturbed."
Sighhh...And the world is made a better place when you awaken once more, refreshed...Gorgeous penning, my Sister...Good luck in the contest, my Friend...
Wanda
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One day I hope to have you here so you can see it for real....
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I would love that even more than you might know, my Sister...Perhaps one day...
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Such a quiet strength in this piece. You've described a place of solitude and calm that just drifts through your words. Thank you for sharing such a sacred place with us.
~Elora~
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That is a sacred and real part of my life. It is who I am in the real. My poetry is the way that I express my vibration in the world.
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Seems like you know how to gather stars in your universe...so fitting to breath is space of comfort, away from the inevitable noise of nothingness...
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Yes, that palce where I open the door and step into a place I keep very sacred in as traditional a contemporary way as I can.
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Wow this is completly fascinating, rich in details and profound spiritual experience, the last two stanza are just intensly beautiful and reassuring. An excellent write a great joy to read. Thank you for sharing.
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thank you doomday. Another deeper peek into who I really am.
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The gentle murmurs in the dark...
I got a snoot full of smoke today; grass. no, not that kind! I was burning limbs from 4 trees we cut and the grass caught fire. I pounded till I was shaking with exhaustion. Don't need that much exitement...
I am rehabing a flying squirrel with a broken back leg. -
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Do you know anything about sugar squirrels?
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