Where Are You From?
Walking through the Oak hammock behind my house is full of surprises. There are mushrooms that look like stars, chatty blue jays, a variety of warblers and the ominous yet magical presence of a red shouldered hawk. Last night we had a rain so the resurrection fern is filled out on the branches and the air feels so clean!
This time of year is also great for stomping through the pond cypress swamp because most of it has dried out. The needles have fallen so the light and view is spectacular with speckles of bird calls reverberating between the branches. The very large pileated woodpeckers compete with the oh, so very small but melodious Carolina wren for the loudest voice, and there is the faint squawking of herons in the distant pond.
The deepest parts of the swamp still contain water and as I lean over and look down, I am looking up. Wow, I think to myself, I’m in both places at once!
This grounding moon brings up the image of roots for me, how about you?
In my Red Madonna course last year we were gifted with this poetry prompt originally inspired by George Ella Lyon. You can access it through this link, http://www.georgeellalyon.com/where.html
I encourage all of you to try this because it is most revealing. I also found this poetry form a great way to access lost memories.
You can approach it chronologically from the point of view of childhood onwards or maybe you want to access it through your senses, touching on each one.
Here are a few lines of my own...
...I am from the horizon of yet to be
I am from the dance troupe of North Carolina caught in the grace of music flowing with the rainbow trout in the spring creek ...Stretching me into other worlds
I am from the hope of California’s blue skies and golden hills walking with children and goats
...covered in Manzanita, coyote bush and the taste of fennel and fog
I am from my own cracked heart of failure, disappointment, loss, and pain I am from generations of families fleeing their mitzrayim;
the slavery, the discrimination, the oppression, the fear
I am from laborers, farmers, artists, homemakers and scientists looking for freedom they could create And finding time to be joyful
I am from what feels right
...My inner compass when reason fails
I am from the conviction to survive
Drawing my circle in the sand with my knife in my hand
I am from the courage to be curious, daring myself into the unknown
...to help someone else
I am from the gathering gratitude of women and men in ritual with the Divine
...We hold hands together
~Rosemary Claire Allen