Ann, the Poet

A I Long before I discovered my passion for using clay as a vehicle to show others the stark beauty of the land around me, I was a poet. From the time I learned to recognize words, I crafted these words into imagery that came alive, as it depicted the world around me.
 
This month, as featured artist at the Muse Gallery in Cottonwood, I will share these poetic depictions of the beauty I have found here in the Verde Valley, and those I have experienced throughout my life. I hope you can join me for this on Saturday, February 8 between two and five.
 
As a preview to this other side of my creativity, I want to share with you several of my poems. I will have many more next Saturday.
 
​Landscape
 
Tonight I stand, a rugged tree,
seemingly alone in the stillness
of God’s valley.
 
My patient roots
have learned to push
through drought-stricken
clods of dirt,
protecting me within their toughened skin
 
They grasp the fickle soil
around them,
not allowing it to wash
away in torrents of anger,
in floods of fear and hatred
 
in this alone-place,
in this internal struggle
to stand upright,
I can look above my precarious perch
to the jagged cliffs
the soaring peaks,
the cloud-splattered sunrise
now brightening the horizons..
 
Tomorrow, in renewed strength
I will become the river
that can nourish us, the trees.
I will move up, through my babbling
depths to kiss the sun.
 
Then I can become the clouds
that float above. I can bring
needed moisture
to this crumbling desert
and its thirsty roots.
 
All will thrive in the oneness
of God’s spectacular valley.
 
 
The Cactus
 
I live with the sun, undeterred by thirsty sand.
as I bake within its relentless rays, the scorching noons 
and the chill of vacant starlit skies. 
I accept the challenge of presumed emptiness,
and monotones flattened into endless blue.
 
To survive within desert’s vast vacuum of inhospitality,
one develops a prickle of spines, an impenetrable
armor to guard against a neighbor’s ravenous lust.
 
I maintain my green tones of life within a landscape
guised in dyes of brown.  I flower in brilliant shades
painted by the setting sun, adding sunrise’s forgotten
shades of rose.  No harsh wind nor biting clouds
of dust can permeate my sword-sharp shell.  I listen
 
to the tedious tones of arid desert and hear silences impossible
to detect in the busy-ness of life.  Even in my own barren
spaces, I warmly greet the friendly tumbleweeds drifting by.  
 
 
Blessing to You, my Friend
 
May you discover how
to live among
these beams of sunlight,
this temple filled with all creation.
 
May you know warmth
within the embrace
of everything beautiful.
 
May you thirst for meaning
in your life,
even at the times,
when it blows through
you like a gale of monsoons;
 
May these reveal
to you the face of Love,
even when it blinds you.
 
May you live with Holy grace,
even as you stumble
on the rocks that lie
along the way.