Christine Atkins Wolfe

 

Said the Wind to the Moon

wind to moon

your silver shows

mine’s invisible,

until  it blows the ladies skirts up

in the air

or ripples the pond

into lapping green waves.

 

moon to wind –

you’re free to move

wherever you choose

while I rise east, set west

every night

then shine silver,

you said that right.

 

wind, moon   both

I blow past the clouds

and reach out to you –

 

I brighten your path –

 

I know you do.


 

When Fall Winds First Swept Voluptuous Winds

after another poem by c. wolfe

 

When fall winds first swept voluptuous

I shrank…

summer memories

so hot, so delicious.

 

when fall winds –

I sighed,

uncertain

put on a yellow scarf.

 

when fall –

crisp taste of apples

of apple pie on my tongue.

 

fall –

summer’s green memories

turning yellow and red.

 

 

 


Green River: Two Stones Converse

     (first printed in the quarterly Time of Singing, summer 2016)

 

So warm, as if we could wade ashore, dance,

or stand in front of each other, pulse

or collide without pain.

My world wetly visible to you now –

green river, umber islands

a crack, a crack, a crack.

 

A flowing jagged line,

and one gaunt star

near my world’s shoulder

confirms joy.

Above, at the top of my world,

you’ll open a door soon

at my head, a friendly

slip-into              gash.

My friend, I’m reaching –

 

 

 

 


 

Where I’m From / Here I Am. Lord

I.

I’m from the 60’s

    which became the 70’s

I’m from a tree that’s standin’ by the water,

    We shall not be moved.

 

I’m from changing my neighborhood

    by being a neighbor;

we can greet each other, talk about

if the weather’s bad or good,

    Talk about the kids – they

have it  rough, some have it tough,

lots of burdens to carry today.

 

I’m from speaking truth to power,

at my job, a Quaker Peace Center,

they call for willing persons

to travel to Wounded Knee,

bring money for food and medicine

for Sioux in their own besieged village,

protesting how Uncle Sam beggared them.

I will go, Lord, if you lead me,

I will hold your people in my heart.

 

 

II.

I’m from uncertainty

naivety;

I’m from misunderstanding

the Ten Commandments when

Make love not war  makes so much more

sense to my college friends and me,

can’t you see?

I’m from I heard you calling in the night.

 

from a shy, bookish girl,

to a New York city college kid,

tutoring kids at a Manhattan church.

I’m from somewhere in between

White folks at Barnard

Black folks of Harlem…

the only time in my life when I’m free to die

No one pressing on me

‘cept the Lord of sea and sky –

And I love his rain.

Don’t know why.

 

Beauty all around me, rising from the dirt

about to put my hand in the hand of

many a handsome stranger across a crowded room,

sing him my tunes, hear his songs too;

later down the road we’ll be singing,

we shall overcome.

 

III.

Here I am, Lord, if you need me,

my spiritual path opens

before me,

I dream me as wolf-woman

walking with the wolves, reassuring my sisters,

all my sisters,

that they too are worthy of a voice –

anywhere. Only the Shining One

Who never leaves me affirms

my prophetic soul, headed for glory,

I no longer accept perdition.

 

 

 


Marc Chagall, the Blue Horse and Me

 

Marc paints

and I dance.

 

Behind us, Bluey plays

his yellow violin.

 

Mon chere artist paints les fleurs,

tres magnifique! And I dance.

 

Above us, Bluey makes his violin

sing, sing. And I dance.

 

Marc concentrates. Bluey plays

a blue melody / yellow violin

Romantique. Triste.              I dance.

 

 

 

 

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