Paint | Line | Word

Do You See What I See?

By Diane de Camps Meschino

This painting emanated from my inner turmoil while visiting Hornby Island, where friends graciously hosted my husband and I when our hiking trip was prevented by a wild fire developing on Vancouver Island. The voice of Google Maps broke through our musical accompaniment warning of a road closure ahead. Upon its repetition, we exited the highway to investigate. We discovered plumes of smoke now visible in our intended direction -the fire was close and spreading. The world on fire dominated my mind. I coached a frightened young woman, we met while retreating from the fire, not to make the trip across the island via logging roads. She did not have a 4 wheel vehicle and was alone – her employer was pressuring her. With the concern of a home-away-mother and cool headed approach of a doctor, I solicited a promise of guilt free judgement focused on safety. As the fire developed, the logging roads also turned into rescue sites from their collapse. “Do you see what I see?”

RAIN DANCE

By Scott Lawrance

For the Intergenerational Council of the WCG

The clouds darken
But no rain falls –
The little trees
A blend of conifers
Call out with all their might
For the rain
That gathers
Just out of reach

Sitting in my room in front of Zoom
Is a dry location for sure
Neither here nor there no
I’m actually not there at all
But in the forest alongside of Davis Main
Up by the bridge
That sits across the stream

Dougald and Rob were talking
About the forest
Milking the sky above
Bringing down the rains.

In this forest
Young trees after clearcut
Middling and older
None are ancient
But all of them
Stretch themselves
Toward the sky
Calling pleading & cajoling
To suck the milk of sky
Down to Earth’s thirsty mouth

But drought has come
And we’ve brought great trouble
Wit our greed and carelessness
And everywhere trees
No longer have the strength
To call down plead cajole seduce or even trick
The rains to come

And so it is
That the younger need the
Middlers need the elders
Need the oldest need the young
And so it goes

So everyone has to really come together
To plead persuade cajole seduce
and call weep trick and sing –
Must make up for all the Old Ones
So thoughtlessly and unceremoniously cut
Down – we must stand
And dance the wind
For them

Called

By Scott Lawrance

Called an elder bearing poems & healing
Called a hole in sky revealing ceiling
Called honey bear from home in apples
Called shaman farmers rainbow ravens
Called dharma wheels & cedar clearings
Called ferns firs & ‘what fors’ keening
Called knees on trails far past evening
Called cats home from eyelids scheming
Called and called and came a running