Evening Poetry, May 6

Striking Chords

by Allison Adele Hedge Coke

French braiding her hair for the first time,

my place in Cundiyo, up on Rio Santa Cruz,

so far into our thirties our favs were classic past,

we glimpsed into sistering like four-year-olds

wondering what else was lost to us, our world

augmented with pianist’s blues.

Mom hammering peddles, ivories, hard

melodies punctuating some strange prelude.

Coffee and cigarettes, her basic falter

as she tickled peculiar parallels between

ceilings, curiosities, tumbled up-

side down with illogical clues.

Kept us held there, caught up in wonder

for something unreal, unseen, she knew.

When wanderlust set in, we left one another,

striking wide world, each alone, unproven tunes,

harbor melancholy underneath long

hair left loose to pull us through.

Now gathering chords,

arpeggio, we two.

You can find this poem in Streaming.

Evening Poetry, April 23

Speaking Tree

by Joy Harjo

I had a beautiful dream I was dancing with a tree.

                                                                   —Sandra Cisneros

Some things on this earth are unspeakable:
Genealogy of the broken—
A shy wind threading leaves after a massacre,
Or the smell of coffee and no one there—

Some humans say trees are not sentient beings,
But they do not understand poetry—

Nor can they hear the singing of trees when they are fed by
Wind, or water music—
Or hear their cries of anguish when they are broken and bereft—

Now I am a woman longing to be a tree, planted in a moist, dark earth
Between sunrise and sunset—

I cannot walk through all realms—
I carry a yearning I cannot bear alone in the dark—

What shall I do with all this heartache?

The deepest-rooted dream of a tree is to walk
Even just a little ways, from the place next to the doorway—
To the edge of the river of life, and drink—

I have heard trees talking, long after the sun has gone down:

Imagine what would it be like to dance close together
In this land of water and knowledge. . .

To drink deep what is undrinkable.

You will find this poem in Conflict Resolutions for Holy Beings.

Evening Poetry, November 29

Carrying Our Words

by Ofelia Zepeda

We travel carrying our words.

We arrive at the ocean.

With our words we are able to speak

of the sounds of thunderous waves.

We speak of how majestic it is,

of the ocean power that gifts us songs.

We sing of our respect

and call it our relative.

You can find this poem at poets.org.