Woodhaven Community Poems
Nancy Holmes et al.
From September 18 – October 31, 2010, 59 visitors to Woodhaven took paper and pencils into the woods with a few prompts and wrote lines of poetry. Nancy Holmes gathered these and created these poems, all from the visitors' words — she added nothing, although she edited and cut some phrases, and ordered and shaped the poems. The first line or two of each poem was the prompt. Each line is with the prompt that inspired it. She used something from every piece of paper in the mailbox.
I
I think I am inattentive to everything but my own brain.
What can I see outside myself?
My greater reflection in the trees.
I fall in love.
The birds and the bees.
My boyfriend on his dumb cell phone.
Colours and contrasts blend.
Mushrooms and birds' eggs; honeycombs and cedar boughs;
berries and bear poo; beauty.
The sun on my skin.
My mother? My lover? My other.
Which one is my other?
Smell the rocks on the path.
Poetry everywhere, even the stones.
My boyfriend saying "This whole place is confusing to me."
The wonders it holds.
It's time to step out, explore.
II
We were given a love of beauty for a reason:
To calm us.
To admire the view.
To marvel and feel awe.
To rest a troubled heart.
To remember who we really are.
To distinguish us from the beasts.
To remember that love is essential.
To remind us to see beauty everywhere.
To preserve the world.
To share it.
To create a planet with all living creatures.
IV
Most animals and plants eliminate waste from their body,
leaving their flesh clean and delicious and ready to be eaten.
We gobble them up with relish
but maybe we should leave them alone.
Maybe they'd like to keep their flesh.
But I'm glad I'm not a vegetarian.
Though we are all one, made from the earth,
I don't think about the cow on my plate
any more than she
hears the screams of the grass.
Hunters shoot bears sometimes.
And I like scrambled eggs for breakfast.
Garden waste turns into compost.
The bear scat reminds me we all have a place.
But they do it in the habitat recovery area.
V
What would happen if a little bit of wilderness got loose
in your neighbourhood or your head?
You do not light a lamp and hide it under a pot.
You would dream about being free in your life and your bed.
It would awaken all your senses and release all inhibitions.
You would run with it, play with it, sing and dance with it.
Birds are flying.
You would put the lamp on a stand so those who walk in can see its light.
Bushes and trees would sprout, each taller than the last.
You would open your mouth and eat it.
VI
What I like best about Woodhaven today is:
my family and this most gorgeous of days.
The sounds of creatures, chattering, chittering, screeching, aaah.
The trees and the berries.
The leaf and twig balls.
That nature invites silence.
My family, the companions we have not chosen.
The sculptures, the trees, and the rocks.
What I like best about Woodhaven today is
Thank you.
VII
what has the water written in the park?
gullies, crooked
paths and channels
the water has written, well, water
trees, foliage, and leaves, green
lush, supple life
physical lines, stones into gems,
and spots and crevices
I am everywhere
it has written the passing of time
its many deeds
shouting in rusty orange
along aging log flumes, whispering
source, element
soft, mossy green along fallen
cedars and curving pathways
its absence a dry chalked vein
its old-time song a jagged flume
what you can do
with water
VIII
Air is heavy, so heavy—it can knock down trees.
How do you feel the weight of the air?
The air you breathe is life. It is heavy.
The wind pushes against you.
The breeze caresses your face
enlightening you.
Benign.
You walk in the wind.
In the light of the lungs, the mind of forgiveness.
Inhale, exhale.
Loving kindness weighs upon us.
Air is light, enfolding, and filling,
sharing its space.
In through your nose, out through your mouth,
lungs seesaw life.
