Long Rapids Poems
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This poem was inspired by the interviews by Earl K. Pollon and S. S. Matheson conducted with native Sekanni peoples who were negatively effected by the flooding of their communal homelands by the building of the W.A.C. Bennett Dam. “This Was Our Valley” tells that story of injustice. 640 square miles of riverfront and hunting territory would be flooded to form Williston Lake. The Sekanni peoples were driven from their ancestral homeland in northeastern British Columbia, Canada and dispersed.
The Shopping Cart Injustice
People, place and spirit
All were our relations
Biopeds, quadrupeds, winged or finned -
River language told us so.
Fishing rocks spoke the run
Where the riffles and the rapids talked.
Ancestors, dead and alive, told living stories where
Running the river banks, the children played.
The land was a book written in forms.
We made our mark with love, community
Fishing weirs, aspen dugout canoes,
Hunting trails, camps and sacred sites.
Always traders, we traded furs with
White settlers when they arrived
On the rivers Parsnip, Finlay and Peace at
Finlay Forks, Fort Grahame, Fort McLeod.
We added pack trains, teams of pack horses
River freighters, flat bottom ‘longboats’
For supplies and for mail delivery.
It seemed that we could live together.
Then one day a government agent said
That shopping carts were coming
They would flood our world
Water rising everywhere
Shopping carts with electric can openers
Full, fast to check out,
Shopping carts with electric hair blowers,
Full, faster to check out,
Shopping carts with electric air conditioners,
Full, fastest to check out
Shopping carts with electric stoves.
Check out, check out, check out.
They would make our rivers into a lake
We would move or drown.
Our elders did not believe it.
That was the only consultations!
Soon Saskatoon berries all under water
Next, the banks sloughed back to graveyards
Next, cliffs crumbled, and banks fell into rising lake
Houses of the villages slipped and floated
Coffins, bones and bodies strewed the shore
Where tangled trees, debris and more
Eddied with flotsam in the wind.
We wept for our ancestors!
We weep for our children.
We had to flee the destruction
Caused by tree grinders, D-9 bull dozers
The dam construction.
Now they want to take more
Another dam for more shopping carts.
Please stop Site ‘C’.
I leaned back and rubbed my work – weary
eyes as the stress of teaching left my
mind.
The children were playing a few yards away from me.
Their cheerful laughter could easily be heard above the
din of voices.
I checked on them briefly, then turned to the sky that
stretched out in a seamless blue. Occasional clouds
floated by.
It was a beautiful day to be out. I was glad that I had decided
to take a break from work and bring the kids to the park. My
husband agreed whole hearted
The children had jumped at the opportunity to go
play there; though it didn’t have much for play
equipment.
Despite the slight sheen of rust on the slide and
the dull pin pricks on the wood swing, the kids loved the
decrepit playground.
However if the parents ever found out what the children did
on the fallen play ground, they would be most
certainly be shocked at the manner of it all. For those
parents had no notion of what those children hid.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I looked at my twin in earnest. He had to understand.
In order to save Lishon I had to go. Just had
to.
The river flowed before us with a vengeance. It was as if the
water was displeased with the rocks and it had taken upon
itself to punish them.
Jorden looked at me sadly at the thought of jumping.
He knew that it would cost me my life if I
did.
“You just can’t Clarisa. If you jump the Noli will take over
Lishon and without you at the archers command they
will vanquish us.”
“Yes, but if the river is not quieted, our armies will drown.
As the Shana of the sea I must have control: just as you must
control the evergreen and the willow.”
“That’s different and you know it. The sea is fickle and
will turn its tide with little concern but to toss you from
its grave.”
“Jorden I must do what I must and not you, nor
the Noli, nor the Glifon , nor even the Great Shuka can
stop me.”
“Watch what you say Clarisa or the Great Shuka will
stop you.” Jorden’s features softened after this warning.
He knew.
I looked at my twin affectionately. For all that he
was, Shano of all trees and animals on land, he was
still my brother.
“Should I not return, defend Lishon with all you have. If
all goes well the frilena shall bloom once more in Lishon’s
courtyard.”
Jorden’s eyes glimmered like the wisps of freed droplets
from the surge of the cataclysmic rapids that was once calm.
He knew.
Our roots run deep into the Philadelphia bells of acoustical waves of your musical melodies, sound in my distant ear, the sailors storm on the wooden ferry I ride, into the depths, of a swamps crossing, saved by the mind, we traveled together with a song in a line, oceans wake we travel across to a hay ride wedding and chowder horns of blessings we dine.
Rings true to the bells of a flashing red nose of St. Nicholas flight we sit and fight occupied by the Christmas Night. Songs we would sing from an Old English Story carried on by our families from generations ago. A musical history of wooden winds along with an Indian Pipe we remember from back then, the long journey of the stalagmites of millions of years you shown to me. Nature we live to see, what's right in front of me, horses we gallop to the lake filled with trout, and into the rivers of the Chattanooga with a stripped root beer of truth in its colors are bound into a saltwater taffy candy entwined.
Built from the foundation, a brick and a pebble, we rise through the years of lessons we learned, the barrel of two guns and logs of fire on a cold night.
A loss so great grief long and hard two people so young and so soon they were gone. Torn apart into a new life and it begins with the truth that lies beneath. From the strength above we pulled through.
Snowy rooftops and a seasons leaf, roaring rapids and a bridge line of cobble, a Water Wheel and Indian Tales in a Grey Stone Prayer of a white candle lit. We move along through it all filled with adventure and love carrying the music within to find ourselves back to the oceans again deep in our hearts. The Tropics we know.
Constructing the intelligence broad waters rise and a house from the 20's you kept alive, hard as it was a paradise you built, home you always were where ever you went.
My heart sank when the news came, I never have thought of a day without you. Brave I was with all that you survived, I made it through, darkness came and they attacked with secrets people never knew, I almost died, but came through because of you.
As years went by then at last comes a son I thought who lives in the memory of you. Lessons we learned will carry on to him too. Bless our lives with many more of you. As I sit here today missing you, all I can do is carry on...and hope to make you proud as I am of you.
Is it cool that it’s not cool? Am I making a stink with no sense of smell. Don’t tell me it’s okay to say how I feel then throw me into an emotional jail. I don’t do being locked up well. So what if I get upset. Who says only you girls are allowed to feel? If I pulled on you-what you pulled on me, something that you cared about-and acted like it was “no big deal”; how would you really feel? Don’t step in my shoes and attempt to tell me my story from your point of view. I was always there so give e a hint and double up on getting a clue just so that the cold won’t seem so cold as sometimes I feel you barely try not to do. You're probably use to the inclement weather dealing with people that think they are better and you just keep reaching for their validation, so you walked into thing "us" thing more prepared than I by putting on an extra coat or two?
Is this how it feels with the 80/20? Am I putting down the 80 just to investigate and find the 20? How would you feel if I did to you what you've done? I have your back 210% is your percentage lower or higher when it comes to me? If I watched for you to prove it what pattern would I see? What’s minuscule to you just might be larger than life for I. People depend on the direction of society and employ less smiles and ore frowns, that's what happens when we live to gain approval from anyone yet ourselves and in my opinion...the "real world" was always generic and broken down. Listen to how my “ridiculous feelings” sound, though we bypassed this step on my end but you are taller for a reason you are on step four when I decided to wait now I just a random face in a faceless crowd and I fade behind the background. No pity or pictures please, I just want to hit start and remove the pause.
Because I waited and you play games with you words but I listen and yeah sometimes I overthink, it allows me to address I’ll just allow you to laugh at me. It sucked but not for too long. I’m learning that we won’t always be on the same station and it’s okay for us the explicit realness. Do we sing different songs or different verses to the same? It’s not “wrong” it’s how we learn about each other what’s taken cannot be unsaid or undone. It’s a matter of truth, integrity, and a consistent form of respect I'm always willing to do that always for you. Question is can you-for me?
Friend, before life moves us to the parting ways
Let wisdom tell from rend of heart its lessons old
That you may take your journey springing praise
And mend with gladness dream and mirrored fold
One road invites the universe of man to dawn
The place we left in awe of sword and flash of fire
Stumbling from purpose and lapping dew for ire
Making the circle of return to the cradle of the fawn
It's two things the oracle challenges us to know
Where the road diverges into many different paths
What vision shapes the skill that need will show
To meet the tests that sever self from it thoughts
And lift the eagle to the pinnacle of brimming star
And say to soul you are worth more than you seem
In any dissection of the flesh or weighing of dream
The mantle is mask that pretends not who we are.
What if one branching path a wide lake must cross
What if another a snow-capped cliff must clamber o'er
And still the next has serpents slithering in the grass
And one stretch endless like miles of a sandy shore
Shall the swimmer charm the serpents, swim
The sands, and climb the mirror face of ice
Against a different purpose will his dream suffice
Or all mismatched paths not a meet a fate still grim?
O too many on the wrong path are embarked, too few
Their purpose know before the journey begins
The shipwreck on deserts straddle the sense as clue
Ignored ... self-blinded race, drowning in our sins
He who foreknew us predestined purpose too
Each tree is seeded after its kind, each man can
Achieve only what is set in the primordial plan
The broad way is littered with much too much to rue.
What use is choice unless some context tell the aim
For once and only once we choose the path to good
And joy, the river does not return, the sea is the same
Only at the rapids end. Not what I would, but what I should
Is all I need to know. It's not the prize but the race
We run is what we are destined for. Go now, friend
And wing the light and for mist of truth contend
The swift may run, but the wise the victory taste.
I am water,
I flow single mindedly in search of the sea,
I am a fast moving torrent of rage,
As I rumble over the shallow rapids,
I am a slow and lazy pool of the darkest, still depths,
I hover above you as a rain drenched cloud,
Holding back no more I spill down,
A warm cascade that sooths as I wash away
Discord and debris,
Your parched skin hungrily drinks me in,
I drench the dry banks and nourish new growth,
A slow and steady soaking inwardly seeping,
I fill your spirit and flow through your veins,
I am the current of hope and an inviting cove of belonging,
I flow gracefully around obstacles meant to block my way,
I batter the shores with my rage,
I am water,
I flow single mindedly in search of the sea,
Onwardly around every bend…..
I am Earth,
Home to all creatures, infinite and unconditional,
The bosom of my soil yields life, comfort, peace and love
I am wonder filled caves,
Green hills of glory,
Valleys rich in splendor,
I am steep rocky ledges
too treacherous to navigate,
I am dangerous slides of loose stones
To which you loose your footing,
Send your roots deep within me
so I may hold you up straight and strong
as your reach upwards in search of the sun,
I am generous in my abundance and shelter,
I am merciless in the barren waste lands that yield nothing,
My terrain is every changing, impossible to predict,
I am high mountain peaks too dangerous to scale,
I am a vastness of beaty and life,
I am Earth,
Home to all creatures, infinite and unconditional,
Patient, loving, forever
I am the wind,
The roar of my soul fills your head,
I am a whirl wind that blows through the cracks in your heart,
I am a restless first breeze of Spring,
That ripples over grass and skin,
I am the still and content breath of summer,
Breath me in and be filled with relief,
I am the un-predicable brilliance of Fall,
I touch the leaves and send them spirally downward,
I am the first bite of winter to which you put up your collar and turn your back,
I am the cyclone of emotion and furry of confusion
hat rips at the walls and rattles the windows,
I am the breeze that flows smoothly through the grasp of those
who try to hold me or control me,
I scatter your seeds to the four corners,
I am the wind,
The roar of my soul fills your head,
I change direction and disappear ….
I struck out on my own around a year old
life was so full of fun, so many things with
which to play, a leaf scuttling by, a rustle
in the undergrowth. I was enthralled.
I stood on a road watching intently
a little mouse. A car shot past bowling
me over and slicing off half of my tail.
It stung like hell and dripped blood.
Finding a cool stream I placed my tail
within, oh the blessed relief I knew
I had been lucky, one life now done.
My next life also flashed by as
hunter became prey, I ran for
my life from a pack of hungry
wolves barely escaping their
razor sharp fangs and hot breath.
Fishing for salmon I ventured
in too deep and got swept away
tumbling through rapids, banging
into rocks lucky to be washed ashore.
Bedraggled I lie in the sun
I swallowed way more water
than I drink in two days.
Shivering as I dry off.
Maybe four is the charm
as now I am much wiser.
Oh no I followed my nose
to an enticing exciting smell.
It led me straight into a mire
churned up by rooting pigs
I was being sucked down
exhausted I finally lay still.
Well a miracle happened
the muddy slime released
its deathly grip and I was
able to slowly wriggle free.
What a state my fur was in
muddy slime all over me
only one thing to do and
that's take a hated bath.
As I rolled in the shallows
I felt a change in pressure
and ran for my life chased
by angry snapping jaws.
Piranhas I had disturbed
Nearly ripped to shreds
I slipped away to rest up.
Unfortunately as I drifted
off I started getting stung
I was under attack from
angry bees I was lying
right over their hive.
Fast as a streak I headed
yet again for the river
and dunked myself again
and again till they were gone.
Seven lives already used up
and I was still only three years.
A few years past uneventfully
I am getting the hang of things.
One dark stormy night
sheltering in a leafy tree.
It got hit by lightning
knocking me to the ground.
Fur still burning I looked
a real fright, a cartoon cat
with hair on end whilst all
I really wanted was a quiet life.
Well I have used up eight
of my nine. I now mainly
sleep my days away. The
urge of adventure quietly rests.
My day will come soon
now as age takes its toll.
I am stiff and nearly blind
so I lay down a final time.
We lost our “UMOJA”, the basic concept and core value of our being “We, therefore, I am”, at the time of our history that began some 300 years ago. We didn’t step on the soil of New World with a dream like many others, but hauled on the ground like a cargo as merchandise. We were each treated individually as a unit but not tied as a family or group bonded together by the same dialect.
Misery was the food we’d been feeding to fill our empty stomach, agony was the water we’d been drinking to quench our thirst, depth of our footmarks were the weights we’d been carrying, our lives were trial after trial of thorny path. No matter how hard we worked, our baskets were empty. No matter how much we labored, returns of our toils were unbearable lashes. No matter how humbly we begged and ardently prayed, God always turned His face away from us.
But all those detestable days are gone as second millennium faded away. Shackles of curse are removed from our neck and wrists. Our burdens are removed from our back. The reward of our day’s of labor is reasonable wage. Why don’t we embrace one another with joy because only thing remain is our determination.
As daybreak sun is rising from yonder horizon, our darkest day has passed; for daybreak light is brighter than ever and pleasant as spring breath, we have good reason to celebrate for a moment. Nevertheless, don’t prolong the time of festival because it may make you stray from reality and to dwell in farfetched world.
As long as you don’t fold the wings but spread wide and keep flapping them, though sometimes encountering high wind, you can fly higher than the highest ridges of a mountain. If you keep swimming upstream, though you may confront falls and rapids, you’ll come to your old home where your parents risked their lives to spawn and enable you to hatch from an egg one day, and rejoice overflowing water in the ocean to gladden your life. If you dart with a swift gallop not abandoning tomorrow’s dream, no matter how immeasurably vast is the wilderness, you’ll reach the horizon before sun sinks into the other side of the world.
It’s the time to restore our “UMOJA” a laudable custom once we lost during our darkest days, recover “UMOJA” our ancestral heritage the good moral standard to sustain “I as us.”
I turned away and faced the crashing white rapids. My
evergreen hunting dress whipped in the wind with my
copper hair.
I took a deep breath and jumped. I felt the spray
before the crushing force of the furious river of Ashtira .
I knew.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The crashing Ashtira swallowed Clarisa up like a
famished Lunadford scourges a helpless fox before
a feast.
I don’t know how long I stood there before the Seeker placed
his firm hand gently on my shoulder. I looked up to see
his concern.
“Where is Clarisa Shana? The Chinook whispered that she
was with you and in some marvellous peril,” he spoke
with care.
Despite the fact that I was Shano, I still had a keen
friendship with the Seeker. It was perfectly normal to
break down.
He wrapped his solid arms around me in a protective way that
he always did whenever I needed someone, for big matters or
small.
“Come now young Shano. Dry those tears. Clarisa Shana did
what she had to in order to save Lishon. She knew this day
would come.”
His wisdom did nothing to salve my hurt but I knew that
he spoke the truth. It was only because of this that
I quieted.
“Come. The time to grieve is not now. The Kwana are gathering and
they need you to be on the ready for battle. We need you now
more than ever.
“Aye Seeker. You say the time to grieve is later but now is the best
time. I will use my grief to vanquish the Noli and spread their ashes
in the Ashtira.
“Still your blade Shano. To use grief for your sister as
a tool in war is to shame her. It will be a murders victory,
not a warrior.
I felt shame for what I had said. To
wield the power of Shano is to be merciful. I
should have known.
The Seeker put his hand on my head and tousled my
hair. I was his Shano but he was like my father in many
ways.
“Come.”
A legion of Noli faced the entrance of Lishon, while
the Kwana (who were half the enemy) sat in the courtyard.
Waiting.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I was tossed as far as the River of Ashtira could
throw me. My breath left me as I landed with a
brash blow.
My breath came back in spurts. My heart stumbled with
my constant effort to start my breathing. Why couldn’t
I get air?
As if she had always been there the Spoken appeared
beside me. She placed her webbed hand on my chest.
Air.
"Dream Bug"
Hour glass
rainbows sparkling
crystal grainy rapids
sliding intrepidly through life’s fingers
their coloured sands speak in tones
they are obtuse and vapid
like snowflakes they fall
confetti on my hands
Writing you
between there
and here again
a feckless court jester
fearless sometimes
walking handstands
painting portraits
in pedantic rhyme
then a page stained,
you're thumb-licked and turning
metaphors gliding ghosting
a snail trail planchette
words miss spelled
they are moulting
like white feathers from cooing doves
we are back in grades of one
singled out on school parade
while the band plays on
we are all caught
like grounded gefilte fish in class
when the saints
go marching in
we’re stopped
for covert mingling
In the office a Nosferatu principal
ignores the grief
behind his two spectacles
two sets of hands are requested straight
knuckles down and held out
the bamboo cane
coaxed no passing
secrets out,
automata face
scream time put on delay
the clock to midnight
on his crypt's wall, hidden
strikes still a braille mind
doesn't once drop the ball
it smiles ruthfully
dialling up the forbidden
chemistry of tears,
a juxtoposition
from the internal well
My opal sky suspended
heaving dreams falling slow mo
through foggy clouds
are breathed in like lavender rain
antiseptic are all
our polished stories
rehearsed repetitively
then delayed and side courted
tennis left hand
lucid inarticulate
backhanded
Love all
candy hearted
is a fresh game
pulled swiftly
from a side pocket
refuting singing flutes
whistling and caressed
by a tongue flirtatiously wetting lips
a regular, pulsating change of pitch
a romantic vibrato
recalled
he calls me
a witch
Scent of a woman
once je t'adore
now her true essence leaking
their personalities mirror switched
bloodied and cut
pieces of peace
stolen by a foolish matador
she’s holding open the exit door
Dream Bug
walks across a
marked and sullied page
lines bleeding right
Melting
dissolved
to the far corner
lid sealed
in a glass jar
left-brained
Dream Bug
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)