Monday, November 18, 2013


One word given to me

know how the root touches water
know how the leaf dances in the wind
know how the canopy entwines the sky

know the feel of smooth bark
white as bleached bone
worn smooth by wind and water

know root and water
wind and leaf
crown and sky

know and be

Pamela Olson, 11/18/2013

In response to the Invitation to Poetry:
The Call to Our True Selves

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Dusty Feet

here are my dusty feet
  turned toward the earth
ashes to ashes:    flesh to stone

planted deep in soil
  rock and grit and

wash me, oh dew
  glisten on pebble and nail
wash me, oh sweet sweat

feed me with your ancient salt
  enclose me in the breaking waves
grace and water within---    without

feet still turned toward earth

Pam Olson, 11/16/2013

Written during "Writing & Meditation: A Pairing of Silence & Words"
at Grailville, OH

Monday, October 28, 2013

All Saints Day in Cincinnati

the trees whisper the saints' names
each leaf turning an ear to hear
blushing with memories
tipsy in joy
tumbling, tumbling, tumbling
until the very ground is light

Saturday, August 3, 2013

The Price of Love

gather the stones
dark and wet
at tide’s edge
which waves tickle
changing them from rock to laughter
bring me these stones
so I might laugh and love you

bring me the sky
moments past sunset
when darkness lies behind the blue
like a veil waiting to be put on
and only the evening star
pricks a hole in the gauzy fabric
then, I shall love you

look for the spruce branch
that lies at the base of a tree
atop the sea stack that waits
for your boat and your footsteps
carry it back
through the hurrying tide
it shall be our bed

Pamela Olson

Monday, June 24, 2013

Amputated Moon

O amputated moon
half the woman you once were
hanging in an early morning sky
emptying yourself of light

Sunday, June 2, 2013


the light in the sanctuary is dim
blues and shadows play
as the flickering votives are lit

alone without distractions

I call out to the Holy
echoes and light
splinter around the cross

wheels and wings in the air

as the world around
molders in want and need
You alone remain in the end

Word that punctuates silence


traveling along the border country
not here and not there
lost in shadows of almost

I heard God speaking in Spanish
brown hands with knuckles swollen
working the dough with care

angels glowing in the sunset
grinding wheat into fine flour
fetching water in pitchers of cool stone

she spoke to me in her holy language
of foreign manna and living water
her dark eyes meeting mine

I took and ate
lowered my head for her blessing
and then journeyed on

Wednesday, May 22, 2013


i saw you from the parking lot overlooking the beach of arched sea stacks; sea lion rookery amid black broken and groaning rocks.  you broke the sand open with each footfall while a full moon hung along the edge of the pacific. i saw you for what you were—an alien here—brother to me, another wanderer.  the sun played hide and seek through the mist and upright firs behind us—shadow and dim light of dawn.  the territorial calls off-shore rose and fell with the coming crash and returning silence of the waves.  i matched my steps to yours and as we passed the earth shattered.

lightning storm at dawn
the ocean is a lantern
followed by darkness