Copyright 2007-2012

Rainbow's Story

A woman a spirit called Shadow
Throws the sunset colours into the sky

Silvery Blue:
A woman called Marsh nods her golden grass head
In sunlight I walk her green edge softly back and forth

In the mountains–the two faces in profile
Blue and shaped craggy and soft

The man lies to the west
The Ancestor
The woman to the north

Silvery Blue:
I look up to see the rain clouds, silvery blue
And they envelope me
My spirit disperses

Silvery is spinning on the path
Drunk with colours
Rainbow is all around

We are turning we are turning
The sun is moving
Rising falling

Some stories are magic
Some stories are told in diviners’ tongues

This story is formed by footsteps in time
A trace of that path a woman called Silvery Blue walks
As she watches land and water and birds

A woman called Shadow tattooed a moon on my eyelid
So I could see the story

A moon iris in a moon eye opening in Rainbow’s sky
The mind’s eye sees geometries around the moon

Today I am half asleep
Today I am half awake

I am listening to the diviner’s tongue
I hear the golden grasses
In them Rainbow’s story

The story comes from here
From marsh creatures whispering in the haze

Breathe this air from mountain mouths
Hear the story in earthly dialects
Visions, hidden languages

Rainbow stories of mountain profiles blowing clouds

Silvery is drunk on the haze
The birds call her from outside

Silvery Blue:
Now I am all the colours
Now I am an orange violet

Silvery sits watching the cloud of sandpipers moving
In front of Rainbow’s profile
The sandpipers flash orange at sunset

Silvery blue has the moon in one eye and the sun in the other
Silvery blue has the moon in one eye
and the Rainbow Spirit in the other

Silvery Blue:
High tide looking for the moon I have rainbow visions
And she lies in the blue profile with snow gradient
So beautiful with clouds rising around

That we are all the children of the woman called Rainbow
Who rests here in blue mountain profile
With black spruce eye and black marsh island hair

She surrounds blue green red yellow white again blue
And becomes liquid at sunset

Three spirits puffing spirit haze
The Ancestor, Rainbow, and Marsh

They lie in their spirit clouds making the colours
Making the silvery blueness making the marshland

These colours and clouds
How we all breathe their giant breaths and walk around in a daze

See their profiles to the north and to the west

They once walked the Earth
Now they sleep here in the mountains

They make the silvery blueness surrounding

At the dyke the air is thick with crowding presence
Silvery’s mind is in the fog

The grass field is wet and strengthened by wind
Eagles shriek and chatter over the passage

Silvery Blue can reach the other worlds
With thin tendrils thoughts of smoke
On misty spirals rising form the marshes
On the tips of feathers
On the breathy note of a song

Silvery’s path is in the marshland
The estuary the mouth of the river

Silvery walks the path
The man in his mountain profile issues words
Clouds rise and form blocks sentences
He is telling a cloud story

Who sent up the haze but those giants?

The Rainbow and the Ancestor
See the smoke rising from their mouths

They lie in their spirit clouds making the colours
Making the silvery blueness making the marshland

A woman called Rainbow lies in a blanket of fog shrouded

The man the great face with dark island hair, horizontal
Dominates the landscape
Light orange over top and clouds

And spreading from the line of hair, the sea the flat plane
And here are ducks drifting and shorebirds
Patterned flocks drifting
His thoughts drifting spreading

The Ancestor mountain-faced
And this little cricket is singing in the wet grass and lichens
In the evening light
What is what is

That face of the human ancestor lies watching the sky
Reminding us of ourselves of what was

Silvery Blue:
This is my story of all the colours
Of my mother’s colour Rainbow
I listen to her voice in the marshes
To the voice of a woman called Shadow
The voice of the blue sky

The cricket song pure gleeful magic
Singing spirit voices

I play the grassy string
I am Silvery Blue

I am the soul talking to the self
Shifting through landscape to water
To voice to ear

I am listening to raindrops
Drawing circles
Spreading on the gray river surface

Silvery Blue:
My story is heard in ears of gold
They listen in golden liquid reflection