NO WORDS

I have no words
when I am not given to you,
when I hide from the sentence
of your sword,

No words
when, faithless, I shrink
from cliffs of my ignorance,
naked, flee for solace
in beauty’s wooden house,

No words,
when I am not hanging
in your silent shadow,
nailed to the rough-hewn folly
of your wisdom.


by c van gorkom

By Wisdom Sought

Eagles soar on wisdom’s wise wings
above salmon flowing Skeena river,
waterfalls cascade ancient stone faces
down mountain else mundane
while west wind driven river waves
pound granite tumbled shore

These mountains are moss clad
and cedar draped
with snow trapped in rock clefs
or slow transverse divides,
they scatter sun this hot July,
make cool a summer wind;

Tears well, springs overflow,
ice melted in gratefulness and praise,
ferns and lush growth,
green promises,
play in dark rain forest shade;

Skeena river white-caps,
wild flowers,
frothing yellow buttercups,
violet fireweed road-side toss
with scarlet paintbrush,
white daisy
and wild pink rose;

I am old enough to know
the one I seek;
none among all of those;
I see your secret shadow,
hear your voice,
everywhere I go;
one day we shall meet.


by c van gorkom

Storm Skeleton

The wreck of a wooden ship,
storm tossed,
left broken,
rotting on a beach,
skeleton of man,
his grave and cenotaph,
the work of his life,
his skill, occupation,
left to crabs and worms,
gulls and ravens.

Sun, sea, wind drifting sand,
slow decay of time and season,
looted of genetic memory,
we watch it pass away,
make it a tourist destination.

We know this of ourselves,
we are passing with it.


by c van gorkom

Shale Song

On this beach
there are no breakers,
no waves,
only respectful silence
stands nearby
waiting upon crabs mating
in the shallows.

An old tire lies exposed
at low tide,
an empty stew can,
broken shells everywhere
among stands of scattered sedge,
shattered shale.

Even wind waits
while crabs mate

Yes, now there is sound;
the tide has turned
land is drinking,
each tiny shard of black shale
rejoices with singing,
smacking stone lips.


by c van gorkom

Masterpiece Of Sand

I sit on a bank of smooth pebbles,
just beyond reach
of crashing, foaming surf,
wonder at the tireless energy
rolling stones into smooth spheres,
tossing them dancing
in its foam,
ten times per minute
since the beginning
of the world.

By this are stones
made smooth and round,
ground into sand,
each grain a masterpiece,
numbered and signed.

and shall we be lost
in the drift of mankind?


by c van gorkom

Alive

Tide, but for a trembling moment,
is always moving
in or out,
slow rhythmic breathing
of a planet.


by c van gorkom

Agate Beach II

I walk the sandy beach,
stooped, like an old man,
at low tide, in all weather,
among dull stones,
look for polished ones,
agates of perfect color
and design.

A poet searching out
in foreign borders of the world,
the lost word,
polished in time sands,
a gem from God
to save and mount
in golden setting,
a poem.


by c van gorkom

Agate Beach I

For a thousand years,
ocean surf has pounded,
polished rocks
into smooth spheres.

“Agate beach”, they call this,
where every stone could be a gem,
give or take a millenium.

My own bones,
should I remain,
(I could do worse)
in time,
may, trimmed and polished, grace
(or curse)
a monarch’s signant ring.

It takes a poet to think
of such a thing.


by c van gorkom

Agate Beach Ballet

Mist maidens in gossamer gowns
dance on wet, warming sand
when sun comes out to watch.

Making no sound,
willowing lithely in billowing
folds of floating transparency,
mist maidens
swirl a beach ballet
to an ancient courtship
of sun and sea.

The music they dance
is within me.


by c van gorkom

Embracing Sea

Your sun rises as robins
sound out depths,
degrees,
sailors steering
a tall ship through shallows
into harbour of day

Before us a river
washes briskly away
last nights shadow,
laps and flows,
from yesterday,
eager for tomorrow

who can stop
its massive motion
rolling sailors
far from shore
to an all embracing sea?

our lives are cast
in such a river,
your promise word
our only harbour,
your ceaseless love
our all embracing sea.


by c. van gorkom

Love Like Wind

have you known love like wind
that up-roots trees
splits them into fence-rails
mulches leaves

love like wind
that piles stones into walls
plows fields
where dark forests stood
cuts with fervent breath
wandering ways
for stoney brooks

love like wind that digs pools
drives crystal rain to fill
spills happily in pleasant song,
plants gardens of grass
borders of flowers

have you known love
like this kind of wind?

such love
with roughened hands
this cottage fashions
in which we dwell.


by c van gorkom

Storm Skeleton

The wreck of a wooden ship,
storm tossed,
left broken,
rotting on a beach,
skeleton of man,
his grave and cenotaph,
the work of his life,
his skill, occupation,
left to crabs and worms,
gulls and ravens.

Sun, sea, wind drifting sand,
slow decay of time and season,
looted of genetic memory,
we watch it pass away,
make it a tourist destination.

We know this of ourselves,
we are passing with it.

Unwittingly Indiscreet

This morning as I walked
a road with my dog, Skipper,
along the edge
of the rain forest,
we heard a commotion,
peered through dense foliage:

There was a stream
with a small waterfall
landing in a pool.

There in the pool,
taking a shower-bath combo,
a big black raven
washing great
soot sheaves of feather.

We begged his pardon
for our intrusion.

He was irritated,
saw we were tourists,
I hope he forgave.

Even on Sabbath

Here and there silver water is blue,
reflecting the sky.

Small waves come ashore
with chuckle sounds
stolen from a mountain brook.

Tide is coming in,
barnacles and mussels
on exposed rocks are happy,
as are all clams
buried in sand.

Tide brings oxygen and food.

Eight islands I count
looking across Kagan Bay,
each with a beach
loaded with life,
rejoicing.

Even on sabbath,
God cares for all
His little ones.


by c van gorkom

Fine Rain

A fine rain lightly falls,
clouds descend,
the islands are misty,
there is no wind,
sea is calm,
this forest is always thirsty;

Even so,
boats quietly come and go
in the harbour,
life carries on
without a raincoat.


c van gorkom

Squall of Rain

Charlotte port town,
I watch the harbour
from a window seat
with a coffee
in a noisy gallery shop

the wind is picking up,
it’s getting cold,
but the fishing boats
tied up at the docks
are loading provisions,
fueling up,
readying to head out.

Waves are donning whitecaps,
gulls are wildly wheeling,
world music in some exotic
language
pounds from a speaker
over my head.

It is dark and overcast.
The clay bust of a black woman
with a light shade on her head
is the lamp that lights
the table corner where I sit.

Piles of old art magazines
lie around
My table is made
from a polished slab
of spruce driftwood.

the room is rich
warm and dark
like my coffee.

From this harbour
I set forth.

by c van gorkom

Summer Islands Remembered

Mystery of mist,
rain forest
green with moss,

where kyries of eagles
fish a wild sea,

where sacred choirs of wind
carol among dancing leaves,

where inscrutible totems
silent witness,
crumble season by season,
elders who wade
tides of time,

where children with little shovels,
plastic pails,
dig eagerly for a supper
of clams,
fish for food
from an old public dock

where older faces at coffee,
overlooking the boats,
focus thoughtfully
on a far and purple-thin
horizon.


by c van gorkom

Rain Forest Full

Slow lament of single
plucked string of banjo
resonates like rain
in these forested
haunting silences.

Piano notes gathered on leaves
distilled from musical mist
intermittently
fall from scales
high above my head,
feed moss minuets
at my feet,
tumble among stones
in fugal streams.

Open throated
calls of worshipping
alto flute
breathes darkly among silent
dripping rain forest trees.

Far away, ocean waves
in mighty hallelujah choruses
crescendo
then recede in tidal
diminuendo,
forsake the sandy shore,
leave no print of the score,
no record of even
my solitary listening soul

with this emptiness again
I am made full.


by c van gorkom