Poetry

The Road to Stanley Mission

A road
Not 2 trucks wide
Somehow allows them through
Where greenery in all its variety
Encloses this narrow passage like
A blanket from the world.

Look left, North
Look right, South
Nothing
But
Everything before you
Shield rock cliffs spin you around blind corners
Black spruce sit like arrows stuck in the soil
Tips to a sky so
Blue
Yet moody
And you are drawn
To the rise that takes you to the sight
of Stanley Mission on
A lake, silver in the early morning hours
Islands, navy green almost black
Reflecting nothing, they absorb you whole

So among the leggo block houses
That stand out like prunes in your porridge
Beauty and reality
Collide
A perfect picture of a not so perfect history.

The path has brought me to the north country
And here
Adventure is a given
Pulses slow, hearts grow and
Spirits soar.
Perhaps we stand a little awkward in the Shield
Like the Black Spruce digging in stubbornly
Yet somehow anything else would look just wrong.
So this barren, hearty land
Stands strong against time, and change is slow
This suits us fine.
No hurry here
Nature knows its business, an age old routine
All will happen as it should
And we adjust ourselves to follow in rhythm.

Canoe Heaven

As a swift sway of a paddle plunges into the water The wind kind and generous sends the fresh scent of water to my way.
Eyes dart in curiosity motions rein in harmony as I become one with the elements.
It seems now everything becomes fresh
The healing color of green
The scent of medicine plants all around.
The water which brings purity I dipped my hand in the water to drink and feel purity going down into my soul.
The smile and laughter, the very essence of mother earth.
She welcomes me and beckons
Every morning I absorb and pray that together we will create a bond and the Spirits that guide us every day become stronger and stronger as we the spiritual travellers move on.