The need to return to origin
True as the need of home
Rush of red shoreline kelp
The coupling of crabs, flash
Of Garibaldi in tidal pools
But a reason for rock foam
Breaker gull sky– unknown.
Each salty breath brings me
To being in you, Uterus of
Life and Death, great Mother
You hold all my answers
Teach me just who I am:
Many, but one, isolated in
An interconnection of Love
Never greater than now
These unbearably clear days
Blood-burst of mystic ocean
The wonder of hearing in all
The endless hum of gestation
Spun in a womb of silence
The mantra of waves.
Photo, Cape Flattery, by Rayn Roberts
Painting by KATHY COLLINS from exhibit at Tsuga Fine Arts
Rikuzentakata Ôfunato Kuji swept away
No trace they were ever there
Otsuchi Miyako Yamada
Sôma Namie Minamisôma Onagawa
Kesennuma Natori Ishinomaki gone,
The earth gave and the sea
Has taken away Banda Ache
Two hundred thirty thousand
Gone in the Indian Ocean wave.
I am thinking of Phuket on Boxing Day
The waters receding so fast
Fish were left flapping on the sand,
The boy drawn by hunger
Or a child’s fascination
Not knowing the danger
Walking out to catch a few–
Then the immense water-wall moving
He turns, runs– is gone.
Some say the Lord taketh
But where were healing Jesus
Allah the Merciful
When countless cries went up,
Where were the thousand hands
Of listening Kannon,
in paradise where she was
Blissful in her Pure Land as if
Tsunami’s never happen?
Do the dead hear the whispered calls
On the kaze-no-denwa wind phone?
Rayn Roberts 2017
Kaze no Denwa, The Wind Phone
(upon a painting by Yumi)
If not for bouquets of summer glory gathered by gentle hands
What reason for gardens by the sea?
The muffled break of waves is not as loud
As the whiff and whirr
Black and yellow bumble bee busy in the bloom,
Each comes to gather gold–
Drawn by sunlight and color,
The ladies in hats and summer gowns, baskets on their arms
Stroll down from the house.
When they return,
Marigold scent in hair, dahlia pollen on hem and sleeve,
They will fill the house with rainbows of stock and zinnia.
Even as Neptune sleeps, the sea a great blanket over him
Deep monsters and storms quiet now,
Everything is Energy,
Ocean air blowing streams of light
Whirling through bush and tree, grasses pushing up
Butterflies afloat, the mind brimming, spilling over
Spilling its delight…
Light as a finch skipping on air!
I have dreamed such days, lived too few, when death
Did not seem final, truth not so rare:
Hours pushing open leaves and petal on petal
Unfolding in fragrance….
…flooded with light, holding form
For what we call a day, but is, one flower each calls their own.
The poem first appeared in “Along the Shore” Lost Tower Publishers, London. April 2017
Paintings are by Odilon Redon.
I am happy to announce that Lost Tower Publications will include my poem “Garden by the Sea” in their new anthology “Along the Shore” coming out April 2017.
Lost Tower Publications