The Song of the Black Locust and Other Poems

Three poems about generosity and bravery

Today, I’m going to shift gears a bit. The tears have been flowing this week, and that may morph into an upcoming essay, but for today, I’d like to share some creative writing. I think they are probably poems, at least poetry-ish. The last poem was inspired by a dream I had recently. In the dream, I backed away from the bear and that was all I remembered. I was sad about that upon waking, so I decided to take our time together a little further. 

The Song of the Black Locust

I am trying to belong to a place. It is not the place of my birth, though I can’t help but feel it is welcoming me in. 

Every year, on the week of my birth, the black locust flowers blossom, filling the air with a jasmine smell usually reserved for tropical climes. 

Black locust has fragrant, delicious flowers.

It adds nitrogen to the soil we’ve depleted. 

Its wood is rot-resistant. 

But it’s “invasive” because it has the nerve to bloom where it’s planted, 

Because it shares its gifts too freely with those who do not care to behold them.

Every year at that blessed threshold between spring and summer, I behold and feel blessed anew, by the tree who has adopted me and my gifts. 

Calling All Dandelion People

The land on which I was born is among the richest soil on earth. 

If I had been born 200 years earlier, there would have been at least 50 feet of coal black soil beneath my feet. 

Now my home place is known for corn, 

for monoculture, 

and much of the soil is so depleted

that it can’t grow anything unless you add nitrogen fertilizers made from oil pulled from the ground on the other side of the world. 

Because corn is only in the ground about four months of the year, much of that richest soil in the world flows down the great river. 

The tractors compact the soil. 

Now the greatest soil on earth needs the plants that we humans keep chasing away. 

Plantain–to break up the compaction

Dandelion and burdock and yellow dock–to pull nutrients from the deep

Bittercress to spread rapidly and hold the soil here; a bandage on an open wound

Who will be the dandelion and plantain and burdock people? 

Who will break up our compacted culture? 

Pull up the nutrition from the deep past?

Keep us from washing away? 

Break up our monoculture?

Bring healing back? 

They must be brave, as the ignorant among them spew poison, trying, and hopefully failing, to destroy them. 

They must be strong, as they are asked to bloom in the most inhospitable conditions.

They must be resilient, to continue sharing their healing gifts in spite of the ingratitude of those who need it most. 

They must be grounded, resourced by the earth and connected to the deep past and the deep future. 

They must be radiant, pointing their crowns to the sky, aiming for their unique spot in the cosmos. 

My Ancestor, Black Bear

I went looking for the cave of my ancestors to learn the message they hold for me. 

A beaver led my way into the cave that held a deep forest within.

It was as dark as you might imagine a deep forest inside a dark cave to be.

I was surprised to see that large blackness before me move,

To suddenly realize I was five paces from a black bear.

I hastened backward.

Only later realizing that in the cave of the ancestors this bear could be mine.

I cautiously stepped toward the bear, 

who gently set me on the ground,

lay down next to me, 

and offered her protection as if I were her cub.

Because I was.

She rose and I followed her into the cool, clear water.

A baptism of sorts.

Then to the sweetest berries and the rich, oily fish.

That communion where the sweetness runs through my veins and that richness becomes my body.

Growing and growing as the pinks, whites, and light greens

Turn to purples, yellows, and deep greens

Then golds, oranges, and browns.

Then she wraps me again in that embrace as we lay snuggled in amongst the roots of the mighty oak tree.

For what else is there, really, than to protect what is precious, share generously of what you have, and rest deeply when this is done?