My Spirit
My spirit is imagination
with gold flecks, jumping and spinning,
wild, bright and alive.
My spirit is silver,
smooth and warm
peaceful
and dancing with the stars
under an ink infinity.
My spirit is bronze,
and plays in the dirt,
sprinting across fileds,
glowing invincible.
-Antigone
My Spirit
My spirit is gold,
like a plate of setting sun,
simply glowing
on the distant horizons
of dreams and reality.
My spirit is silver,
the stars in the sky,
never fail to catch my twinkling eye,
and the moon and this earth
wrap around my heart,
I love the feel of nature,
and the way she frees my soul.
My spirit is bronze,
standing still and silent,
there for the needs of others.
I only speak when I am spoken to,
but my thoughts run wild inside me.
-McKenna
Gold
My spirit is gold because
of the way
it shines from within.
-Wren
My Spirit
My spirit is gold.
It shines when it's happy and
rusts when it's sad.
My spirit is silver and it cares for
and loves friends, family and animals,
it plants the roots that hold me down,
it grows the leaves that make me smile.
My spirit is bronze.
It plays and laughs.
It gives me movement and life.
It loves everything I love
and knows everything I know.
-Dana
My Spirit
My spirit is gold.
It graces the earth
and changes everything it touches.
It glows
It flies
It is a worrier
A fighter
It never gives up.
My spirit is silver.
Like ice
It can shatter
Like life
It is everlasting,
It can send me to the tallest mountain,
It lives and breaths
It laughs and it twinkles.
My spirit is bronze.
It is ancient
Yet childlike in nature
It is infinite
Yet it laughs at the craziest things.
This part of me
Is the part that is never sad
The part that takes things head on
And forces them to not be afraid.
-Sophia
We then chose three nouns that meant something special to us, a person or animal, place and thing. Our next ice-breaker involved using these words as springboards into deeper explorations of our selves.
Leia
My dog Leia is very special to me
She never fails to jump on me and
cover my face with licks from her small, pink tongue.
Even though I jump on top of her,
and snuggle her to death, even when I
forgot her second birthday.
My puppy Leia loves me.
-Whitney
My House
Roses are red
Violets are blue
You are my house,
and I love you.
I have known you all my life and
I can walk through you with my eyes closed
and as you change from carpet to wood,
to modern from, well,
less modern,
I still love you the same.
-Whitney
Teddy Bears
I am grateful for my teddy bears who
have been with me since day one
who have lost the softness over the many years
of slobber and wear.
I am grateful you are always there
and have always been
when I am bored or sad.
I am grateful to have
been with you
all my life.
-Whitney
Dear Boonalena,
Your majestic mane whips
in the wind so gracefuly
and beautifully. You arch your neck
and pound your hooves upon
this forwaken EArth.
Your wise eys see al and my heart
stops in its tracks, when I see you laugh
at fear and love with the largest of hearts.
All my love,
McKenna
Lily Pad
Once upon a time
there was a fairy
who lived on a lily pad.
The lily pad was a tinted blue color.
The fairy loved her lily pad.
-Wren
I am grateful for my lake.
The cool waters, big islands,
baby goose eggs.
I am grateful for the many years
I have spent there.
I am grateful for my lake.
-Dana
Sophia Right Now
Water climbs blue hills
The secretiveness inside tumbles and flips
The craziness burns black
and the sweet scent of lilacs
is dethroned and replaced
by flying bridges
and the clear water of a mountain lake.
-Sophia
From there, we hit the trail on the Jumbo Saddle. We started low and made our way through the shady, tall grass and unexpected aspen groves. We read and discussed Mary Oliver's, "A Summer Day." The children were asked to use her poem as a model and encouraged to begin with a series of questions addressing the natural world.
Some People
Some people think
money is all that matters.
Some people think that
our beautiful,
wilting earth
will just fix itself.
That riding on your bike down
the middle of the street,
arms outstretched,
balancing,
breathing in sunshine
and quiet,
breathing in sunshine
and chaos,
passing the house with the red door,
smelling fresh baked bread from the house
down the block,
breathing in sunshine,
and wet pavement,
breathing in sunshine and morning,
riding down the middle of the street,
balancing,
and thinking you are the luckiest person alive
doesn't count.
-Antigone
The Summer Day
Does the sky go on forever?
This smooth painted covering.
How many children would you need to stack
before one of them breaks through the clouds
and touches the sky?
Those soft, sugary clouds.
This smooth, painted covering.
Is the sky not an encasement,
but a path to the sun?
That fiery, flowing mass,
buring without fuel.
Those soft, sugary clouds.
This smooth, painted covering.
What if the sky goes on forever?
-Eliana
The Fairy Pond
Who made the earth?
Who made the birds and the bees?
Who made the fairy pond?
I mean this fairy pond I am staring at.
The one who sits there making a home for
the birds and beeds.
The one who hosts the beautiful
fairy balls every single night.
The one who I hear making the
soothing sound of rushing water.
I don't know if fairies are real.
I do know how to imagine.
I do know how to imagine mermaids.
I do know how to imagine fairies.
I have done that in my past years.
What else can I imagine?
-Wren
The Summer Day
Who rustles the leaves?
Who shaped the leaves?
Who decided that leaves were green?
Or better yet,
who decided that leaves
start green and turn red?
Or do leaves start red, fall of the trees,
and then turn to green?
Red or green?
This mystery of such a simple thing.
Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
The confusion which nature leads us to.
Why can't we leave it be?
Why can't nature stay an enchanted unknown?
Why do we have to discover everything?
Let us go.
Let us leave the facts to fade on the
sun worn paper of books.
Let us go.
Let us soar through life
with only one thought in our minds.
Let us drift lazily like clouds and
discover our lives with imagination and excitement.
Let this rapid river of a world
lead us up. And let us take a moment
and forget about things,
forget about questions.
Let us take a moment
and look around.
Let us take a moment
and live.
-Gabriella
The Silence That is Actually LIfe
Who made the universe?
Who strung the stars to make the constellations?
Who is out htere watching, listening?
The stars.
They shine.
Bright and clear in silences
I can see them.
Imagine them to always be above us.
Even during the day
when silence isn't silence
or anything at all.
When silence means life is happening
and somewhere around the world
someone is screaming or hurting
but at the same time
someone is also laughing and living.
So I ask you
or anybody really
who do you think is out there?
Watching and caring what happens to
the craziness of earth,
to that silence that is actually life,
to the lovers, the dreamers.
Everyone
what do you think?
-Sophia
The Summer Day
Why are trees tall?
Why do bunnies hop?
The birds chirp,
one faster than the other
and a chipmunk emerges from
the foliage carrying a nut
bigger than its head.
It scurries around, then rushes closer and closer
to apotential danger.
It pauses and twitches its tail,
then darts into the greenery,
as if spooked by a ghost.
A butterfly glides around my head
and lands upon a rosy flower
and looks upon the world.
It looks at me.
I look at him and
in a flash of color
he's gone.
-Miko
From there we moved further up the ridge, settling in a circle of shade. We discussed primitive and chant poems and I read the girls some examples from the Navajo and Quechua. We talked about the sparse images and strong, repetitive rhythms.
The Hills
The hills are silent as the breeze sings them to sleep
The hills are silent as the moon shines down upon them
The hills are silent as the deer sleeps in the meadow below
The wind sways the long, slender grass side to side
while crickets chirp in the night.
The world is calm as
the summer night fades into dawn.
-Whitney
Stand Still
Listen, and you will hear the wind twisting
the gnarled branches of trees.
The wind, knotting limp strands of grass.
The wind, diving fearlessly into damp soil,
watching it spray the thin sky.
The wind, pressing against the foamy river.
The wind, grinding rocks together,
scraping themselves clean.
The wind, beating the mountain with her fists.
Listen, and you will hear the wind stand still.
-Eliana
Run
Run
The coal with chase you.
Run
I will follow wiht black feet.
Run
The wind will push you back.
Run
As your feet burn on the burning coals.
Run
As death hunts you down.
Run
As life will be waiting to save you.
Run
While the life you have melts away.
-Wren
Slipping Away
Our thoughts have disappeared.
Our dreams have disappeared.
We walked out of our enclosed moment wiht nature.
We are slipping into the loud voices of
epople and loud grumblings of cars.
We are no longer one with nature.
We are one with the human population.
-Wren
The Wolf Woman
She stands tall and strong,
her muscular legs flesing under
the quarter moon.
Her eyes like constellations
and the silent breeze penetrating her still body.
She sings with no voice
but howls wiht force.
She's alert
ready for the unknown.
Her graying hair stand on end,
her body ready to pounce.
Her feet are firm on the ground
and the hard dirt beneath her
holds her steady.
She has beauty and grace.
She casts a shadow on the lumps of tree roots
where the light filters through.
She is the wolf woman.
She is the predator.
-Gabriella
Primitive
The flames lick at my legs,
tug at my loss of energy,
pull on my hope,
singe my pants,
melt my shoes,
give me reminders,
experiences.
I try to run but my feet won't lead,
now my spring does,
the flames grow
as I near the edge
the edge of nothing
I fall into it
Soldiers run,
children hide as I fall,
fear covers their minds, gone,
for this is all they know.
Hate
fear
greed
is what this empty cavern is made of,
I still fall
not seeing an end to the fighting
the burning
drowning
slaughtering.
But fear leads us on.
I land hard on solid ground.
The vastness has filled the cavern
and hits me.
Then my eyes flutter open.
-Kine
Tigresse
Listen, your hooves beat down on the rocky earth.
Listen, your mane ripples through the wind.
Listen, the birds are calling you home.,
your dorsal stripe shines with your bronze back.
Listen, to the soft chatter of leaves.
Listen, to your soft heartbeat agains your chest.
Listen, to the commands I give you,
you break into a run and jump.
Listen, to the wind calling your name.
Listen, to the cheers as you jump.
Listen, to the world around you.
You are my beautiful horse, Tigresse.
-Dana
Remember
Remember the water, the wind and the air.
Remember the beat of the drums of war.
Remember the animal that lives inside you.
Remember the lake, your serenity, your truth.
Remember the fire that burned in our hearts.
Remember the snow that froze all our greed.
Remember the whispers that can help to remind us.
Remember the speech that flowed like a stream.
Remember that time when nothing was here.
Remember that time when there was no hate.
Remember the ancients, the gods, the demons.
Remember when we were allowed our own fate.
-Sophia
Finally we crested the highest point and found ourselves with an alarmingly beautiful view of the valley. I asked the kids to take one close look at something beautiful and addresses it through an ode.
Ode to the Wind
Ode to the wind in prickly, long, dry grass
Ode to the wind in soft, red hair
Ode to the wind on the broken water,
The wind that flaps laundry over hot cobblestones,
The wind that sneaks through a window
in a melting summer bedroom,
The wind that whistles in your ears and
runs through fields naked.
Ode to the wind.
-Antigone
Ode to Dry Dirt
Ode to dry dirt
This flaky paint
This sunbaked crust
This packed earthy floor
Ode to this burning carpet
of dry dirt.
-Eliana
Ode to the Sky
Your blueness contracts and expands,
like the waves of a turbine ocean.
Your white crests flow effortlessly around you,
meeting and mulitplying, drifting and alone.
They act as if they know the way,
to kingdoms far beyond our reach,
they mold themselves into images,
leaving white wisps of memory
streaked across the sky.
-McKenna
An Ode to Tall Grass
You are perfection.
Your length hides me as I reflect
over the great city.
You move with grace and clarity.
Your golden strands like
straw and wheat,
replicating life and freedom.
You are blissful
and float ever so gently in place
like a strand of wind.
You create perfect views
through your body
and you seem to paint the
shapeful mountains behind you,
and the sky bright and clear with beauty,
and this is my ode to you,
my ode that silently dances on paper,
my ode to tall grass.
-Gabriella
The Grass
The grass tickles me.
I always dream of running through
a field of the greenest grass,
the most vibrant flowers,
but then I realize
the itch and
remember that the grass
is already taken by
the wind.
-Kine
Ode to the Wind
I am thankful or the cool wind
that filters through my hair
the wind that moves the grass
the wind moving the world
of louds effortlessly
the wind that could carry me up
into a world of unknown surprises
the wind
that makes the flowers dance
the wind.
-Miko
Our last word journey of the day turned to animals. With my dog Lucy as a muse in the center of the circle, we read Frances Mayes poem, "Sister Cat" together. We used her words as a springboard into further discovery of what animals represent to us.
Micah
You creep
You meow
And fear trickles down my spine
I am slept on by a single paw
I yelp as every nerve in my
body stands on end
I am pushed out of
the black material.
Memory
A black dog bounds
through the tall, blonde grass,
in one way
out the other
as if he is playing hide and go seek
with an invisible friend,
only his imagination
can bring to life.
In and out of the clear blue water,
in and out of my memory.
-Miko
Looking for another splendid day downtown tomorrow!
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