Mother Nature, You Make Great Stuff
Written by Kat Lai
When I go to the Rockies to hike, ski, camp or whatever, I always come away with a feeling of peace. While there admiring the panoramic vision of awe-striking wonder, it always hurts me inside in a good way. You know, when you see things that are flawlessly beautiful that it hurts to look at them, but you can't take your eyes off...? Yes? No?
The Eagle
I soar above
The wind and sky.
I've seen the world
As I fly by.On the winds
I float and dive,
Hunting, yet fleeing,
More dead than alive.I wish for the lesson
That mankind must learn,
Or else, very soon,
I may never return.I am the king
Of the glorious skies!
But Man shoots again,
And more of me dies.
-July 1991
Mountain Range
With rugged peaks, they stand erect,
The glorious rulers of the land.
Casting shadows everywhere,
Joined together hand in hand.Formed long ago by ancient upheaval
Made by the fury of gods below,
They now watch, peaceful, above the rest
Watching the valley thrive and grow.Sometimes filled with golden sun
That makes them shine with regal light,
Sometimes dark and rusty brown;
Weathered, old men all stooped in height.Cloaked in forest, capped in snow.
Wrapped in all their crown and glory,
Gathered together like old, old men,
Spinning and weaving an ancient story.Oh, wondrous mountains with rough rugged face,
Beautiful giants, so lush, stark and tall,
I hope that you always will be the same giants,
Adored and belovèd, believed in by all!
-July 1991
Legend of a Lake
I was at Lake Louise with my parents and read the history off a sign beside the lake. The first verse
came to me as we walked away, and the rest sort of wrote itself (with some fine-tuning from me). I must
have walked back to that sign about five times to make sure I had all the info right, much to the
annoyance of my parents.
At the glaciers' end, the Indians came
In fulfilment of their wishes.
And here they lived, by the lake they called
The "Lake of Little Fishes".Along came a white man by name of Tom Wilson
'Round eighteen eighty two.
He saw the lake and was, like all,
Attracted by its hue.Its opaque nature, filled with sun,
Was a jewel shining in his wake.
He stared in rapture at Nature's great gift,
And called it Emerald Lake.An Emerald Lake it was indeed,
For that was the hue of the water.
But they changed its name to Lake Louise
After Queen Victoria's daughter.And Lake Louise it stays today,
Enjoyed by one and all,
With gleaming snow, and angels' song
Singing with nature's call.
-July 1991
Silence
Another meditation piece. This time, during "Nature
Appreciation Time" at Camp Kinnaird.
Sitting in the shade of a forest
Listening to silence
I feel the solitude of the trees
I hear the tales the wind tells
Of the places it has been toFar off
Birds sing their serenade once more
While insects hum their own melody
Yet they are faintly heard
Over this vast silence
That nature has wovenThe sun shines softly
Caressing the land
Then a voice calls my name
And the silence is broken
I stand slowly
Feeling enlightened
And the smell of clover
Accompanies me home.
-July 1991
I Am Flying
Written on the OE 25 Solo Trip (our final exam)
on the second day, which is reserved for meditation.
I lie alone in the forest
Not thinking
Not even dreaming
I watch the clouds drifting
across an azure sky
Blue as the love in another's eyes
A white maiden floats
Beckoning to the white boy behind her
As they drift across the heavens
The wind whispers to me
But I do not understand
I close my eyes to feel its light touch across my face
And I am flyingAs gently as a mother
So as not to wake her sleeping babe
The wind sweeps gently down
And carries me away
Through closed lids
I see the lush green world
And purple white mountains
Sailing under me
Earth beckons to me
Urging me to return
But the wind laughs
And carries me higher and higher
I rock on the wind
Feeling nothing
I am flyingI will never return to Earth
I am one with the sky
The clouds dance around me
The maiden is my sister
The boy is my brother
The sun is my father
And the wind is my mother
Here
And forever
As I fly
-May 1994
Winter
This one came to me while doing a trail ride in the fall in Kananaskis Country
(in the Rockies). A light snow was falling, and the wind was just starting up.
The mountains are tired.
As the evening of the year approaches,
it begins to grow cold.
Their playmates have all gone home now
and sleep peacefully,
dreaming of the day.
As the children nestle
into their beds,
Mother covers them tenderly
with a thin white blanket,
soft, silky, and sparkling
in the moonlight.The night grows steadily colder.
Mother lays quilts and comforters
over her sleeping children,
white, soft, feather light.
Gently she sings to them,
rocking them to sleep.
Billowing curtains are drawn
over the window of navy blue sky,
shielding the light
from the tired eyes below.And as Mother sings,
the children dream of the morn,
when they will wake
and play with their friends
under a clear, blue sky
and a warm sun.
-September 1993
Home
Stepping Stones
The Fountain
sKrATch Pad
Dec. 6/89
© Kat Lai, 2002.
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