STARDREAMING With Sherry Blue Sky
Poetry, memoir,blogs and photographs from my world on the west coast of Canada.
Tuesday, April 23, 2024
A Poem for Your Pocket
Monday, April 22, 2024
Blessings
Gathering of Allies
photo by Marcie Callewaert Photography
I'm in the middle, front row, raised fist,
cane, blue plaid shirt
Sitting in a rocking chair in the sun
Giving treats to passing dogs; their smiles and bright, happy, glowing eyes warming my heart
Cherry blossom scent on the breeze, small hummers drinking deeply, so thirsty after the long winter of anticipation
Thinking of yesterday's rally of Tla-o-qui-aht and allies, showing up for Mother Earth, celebrating how Wah-nah-juss was saved from clearcutting 40 years ago, when the First People Just Said No
Remembering passionate early mornings on the blockades, how alive we felt back then, making change, standing on the road for the trees
Turning off the bad news; turning on morning, and birdsong; recalling waking in the night to see a full round Grandmother Moon, golden and smiling in the sky, and looking right at me
Watching a juvenile eagle making random circles overhead, breathing in all that is peaceful and hopeful, beautiful and sun-kissed, all around; nothing left to wish for but more days just like this, sitting in a rocking chair in the sun
Except a world healthy enough to sustain the young eagle, and all of earth's young ones, into the future
A list of blessings for Shay's Word List
Tuesday, April 16, 2024
Poet In Search of a Poem
on Possibility
and Promise.
one's heart
No Solace at Lost Shoe Lake
vividly picturing that long-ago settler,
desperately slogging the muddy slough -
bitter as his shoe was suctioned
off his foot, and gone,
a catastrophe unlikely
but, alas for him,
too true.
of the rocky miles ahead
circling his brain like blackflies,
his journey
caught between disbelief
and dread.
No solace for him
for a hundred miles
at least.
as I walked the lonely shore,
without my beloved
grinning
big black beast.
Sunday, April 14, 2024
Bird
as I sat in the sun,
of white cherry blossoms.
What manner of bird was this?
sent their chatter into
such brief furore?
the brief raucous uproar. Perhaps
had fallen asleep
on the branch
just in time.
While there are magpies elsewhere in BC, they are not in evidence in Clayoquot Sound. But as this was all imaginary, as I rocked in the sun, I had a bit of fun contemplating what might have caused all the ruckus. I identified strongly with the senior bird, needless to say. Smiles.
Tuesday, April 9, 2024
Seeing Double
Kwiisahi?is
Brave Little Hunter
Photo by Zeballos Inn
How to hold this April morning,
on the West Coast of Canada
in my one human
overloaded brain?
The cherry trees in bloom,
rhododendrons opening their pink buds,
blue sky, the eternal waves,
beauty as far as I can see
while, elsewhere on the planet,
bombs fall, children hide among
the rubble. I fill my porridge bowl
while innocents starve
and the disconnect,
among those who govern
with power instead of humanity,
between their agendas and
the horrors of reality,
creates a two-level existence:
the one I am living
and the one I am all too aware of
across the globe.
Meanwhile,
one small orphaned whale
circles the lagoon in which
she is trapped
while humans take too long
to set her free.
Everywhere, the innocent are suffering,
our hearts too full of grief
to bear the pain.
It is a schizophrenic existence these days. April out my window is beautiful and blooming. On this side of the window is the daily news, horror upon horror, no enlightenment, no relief anywhere. And the small whale is still alive, but tenuously so, while rescuers contemplate their response. They are doing their best, but time is of the essence, as they know. The most hopeful plan is helicoptering her out into open ocean, and containing her in a net until her pod - hopefully - swims by, then releasing her. I would prefer them lifting her close by her pod and releasing her, but this has been ruled out. It will be traumatic for her, there is little doubt.
It has now been seventeen days since her mother died. She is diving for longer periods and still calls for her mother every fifteen minutes. We don't know if she is eating.
I am trying, with my entire will, to keep her alive until rescuers can get her out of the lagoon and set her free. Surely we can get ONE thing right in a world that has apparently lost its collective mind. One small whale, alive, is not too much to ask.
Monday, April 8, 2024
Traveling Through Time
traveling
traveling
all the way back
at the very beginning
of time.
seventy-three years gone,
pinks, sweet peas
and hollyhocks
out back.
And roses twined over the arched trellis
out front, where she'd swing
on the gate, late afternoons,
waiting for her parents
to come.
and the loud, ticking clock,
how safe she felt,
to dreamland
in the one place on earth
where she was never afraid.