blessing the boatsmay the tide
that is entering even now
the lip of our understanding
carry you out
beyond the face of fear
may you kiss
the wind then turn from it
certain that it will
love your back may you
open your eyes to water
water waving forever
and may you in your innocence
sail through this to that
Lucille Clifton (1936-2010)
from Blue Lake of My Dreams
Blue lake of my dreams,
I don't know what you mean.
Your waves say
hello and goodbye.
Someone's always leaving,
someone's always coming home.
And some things you feel
you've always known
Coyote shows us where to go:
up past the rocks,
up past the snow,
where the wildflowers bloom,
delicate, yet strong,
they have room.
Blue lake of my dreams,
I'll be there in the spring.
Snow melts like a heart
that will survive.
Over rocks and crevices
we climb up from the plain.
The air is clear
and we are free again.
Women Who Gave Back
What do these two women have in common besides their love of the lyrical and the close proximity of the dates of their deaths? Look closely at the words to the above poem and song. There is a glimpse into something much deeper than a blue lake or even an ocean implied in both; something that sings of freedom and eternity if we will only summon the courage to read them with clarity and vision. Seeing deeply, writing about what they saw, and then sharing it with the larger community were attributes both poet and songwriter shared.
Lucille Clifton, poet laureate of Maryland, winner of the National Book Award as well as many other prestigious awards, didn't do it for the money. No poet does. Ever. Not in a million years. Neither prestige nor recognition impressed her. What made an impression on Lucille Clifton was seeing a book of her poetry in a classroom, being read and loved by kids, black and white alike.
What really made her day was seeing women, particularly African American women, rise up with a new courage inspired by her poetry, determined to climb from the pit of discrimination and make room for their differences and their lives in this world. Best of all, she loved listening to new poets crowding the stage behind her, reading and writing to impress their mentor, their muse, while creating a whole new world of poetry and words atop her foundation.
Lucille Clifton wrote of the pride she had in her race; on the confidence she desired for women to have in themselves, including love for their own bodies; from the beauty, solace and lessons she found in Nature. Most of us just got lucky. We were lucky to live in a "brave new world that has such creatures in it" as the likes of Lucille Clifton. We can best thank her for the work she did by sharing her words, her books, and quoting her aloud whenever we get the chance. Share her dream and she lives on in us.
The same can be said for Fayetteville, Arkansas singer/songwriter Nancy Maier. She taught both children and adults that creating with words, music, and song was the true blessing of being born into this world. She began her creative career writing poems from the time she was sixteen and ended her career in the midst of creating a new CD with original songs with her gifted friend, John Two Hawks.
In between singing and writing her own songs, she taught voice and music lessons to kids and adults alike. She gardened and was always a part of the Omni Peace Gardens Tour (see Larrapin Garden). One of the most important things she did in her community--perhaps the one I appreciated most--was she directed the "Everyone Can Sing Chorus." Really, it's self-explanatory. Nancy believed beyond a shadow of a doubt, that not only could everyone sing, but that everyone should sing. And if your weren't singing, no matter how your family complained every time you lifted your voice in the morning shower, you were missing out on one of the truly great joys in life. Nancy believed wholeheartedly in making a "joyful noise." And sometimes that noise would turn into beautiful music. I know. I was there. I heard it happen.
Nancy shone a light on everything she did. She was one of those people beloved by an entire community, one at least the size of Fayetteville, AR. Her inclusiveness in the world of spirit and creativity was unmatched by anyone I ever knew personally. She was adored. At her memorial service, she was recognized by Episcopal priests and acolytes (all women), her minister first cousin, two Buddhist monks, Native American John Two Hawks, and of course us, the Everyone Can Sing Chorus, including everyone who EVER sang in the chorus. We did it for Nancy, although we could barely sing or even see through the tears that spilled down our faces and choked our voices.
I told Leigh, sometimes there needs to be a public grieving. Celebrating a life is a good thing, an important event. But when that person gave so much; gave as much as Lucille Clifton and Nancy Maier, then it seems only right that we recognize that loss for what it is as well. They, of course, have flown on the wings of poetry and song they spent a lifetime creating. But for the moment, we are left bereft, standing alone without them, looking up.
