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| Mt. Hood taken from the plane |
the natives speak with northern language
the song of the American settlers
carving glacial pathways from east to west
not as much Minnesotan or Michigander,
more like those in Ohio with their approach
to words and meanings far beyond their
level of perceiving it, and my own, foreign to them
this young, urban and sprawling city with
children generations gathered together
upon the remains of the lava flow
formed the land that shapes their lives
in the pew I hear talk of culture and my
southern conditioning is apparent in my
urgency to yell out during the sermon,
my deep fried Amens and Right Ons
that pepper congregational behavior
we are creatures of our conditioning
of the culture and places we inhabit
and here, in central Oregon I feel a settling
in my spirit that reminds me what the scent of
home is like, and I am at peace
humidity of Tennessee a memory and I am pleasantly invited
into the outdoors like my Colorado used to
Juniper and Pine, and how I pine for home
hiking sandals and yoga clothing seem the normal
attire here, espresso on every corner and
local organic produce a staple in every home
breweries under Hooded every dark flavor of hops
birthing center advertisements the size of
hospital billboards back home, and the
contempt for western thought and medicine
has been added to the water supply straight
from these once volcanic mountains
three Sisters overseeing the desert children
and in them lies the possibility of a new
awakening, like giving birth to
life outside the environmental need for it
Mt. Jefferson towering over, as a reminder
of what this place was once, and what it may yet be
in the seat of a Bend lies a craving for
something beyond verbalization
an elevated understanding of life
and the pursuit of all that is good and wholesome
a utopian craving creeping up the spine
elongating the understanding that
this too, was a place without form
until the one who formed it gave it
meaning and in it lies the possibility
that one day the children of this land
will become the children of the Lord over it
in these thoughts lie my prayers
awaken, become, breathe, and return to
this place and it’s people that which
you have received, and in doing so
support your local organic farmers
Linking up for Poetics at dVerse Poet's Pub. The prompt is to observe and describe something you see. I'm in Oregon for the week visiting my sister so these poetic observations of my Oregon experience thus far. Join us, won't you?
