Darkness Upon Darkness

darkness upon darkness

 this is the place

a mirrored reflection

of constellation and galaxies

on this bit of silent water

gathered in this clearing

arise from the shadows

seep out from deep-soiled refuge

gather yourself and come

you shall hold the darkness and silence

as a cloak upon your shoulders

galaxies and stars upon your chest

arise as if from the first moment

time beginning again

no word spoken this time

no echo of consonants broken

against stone and trunk

a silent birth from water and earth

darkness and light

ending or beginning

turning and returning

this is the place

where nothing and everything

are simply gathered in your hands

Pam Olson

Wanting

the metal bowl:  hollow ring

reverberates through the house

calling the hound to breakfast

it is a bell

that chimes across a valley

calling the monks to prayer

the house is still and quiet

but for the click of nails

on the tiled floor

but for the rustle of robes

and the intake of breath

before the chant begins

still:      the bowl rings again

a Pavlovian yearning

the dog and I, full of want

Pamela Olson

All the Day

all the day she gathered

long-leafed grasses

up and down the worn path

from bluff to seashore

she found the saw-edged sedges

and plaited them together

until they sang to her

a song of morning

these she wove into the eastern side

of a plain four-sided house

for the dawn breeze to hum through

as the sun rises

from the bright field she cut

the summer grasses

heads heavy with seeds

and sang of long days and short nights

until they were woven into the northern wall

and when the winter wind blew

they rattled and crackled

their song of life

the soft dark-green of spring

was taken from under the oak

just beyond the pond

and she wove those fronds

with strong breezes and twine

tethered to earth— a sky-soaring diamond

in the southern-most wall

and it sighed with hope

the western wall had no grass

only an open window

there she leans out and watches

for the evening falling toward her

Pamela Olson

A Particular Geography

contortions of trunk and branch

folding themselves

around ---- beneath ---- over

            boulders

                        stones older than I

                        cold but slowly warming

                        as sun and shadow

                        move--- east to west

marking days and geography

passing away

change comes at a cost

twisted upward

roots to stem to leaf

darkness fading to light

here is my place

planted ---- uprooted ---- planted

            again and again

each bend and break

marking another geography

form follows function

place and being:      fused

Pamela Olson

Seeing You Once Again

Don’t you know

I laid the map out before me

this morning as the trees

and their leaves departed company

I thought for a while of a journey

to see you and look into your eyes

the winding road before me

the shadow and light

ever changing places

a ticking of minutes and hours

as the tires would hum a soft song

I could gas up the car and pack a lunch

but I found that you were too far away

and at the end of the map

I would need keel and sail

to break through the surf

and glide in the deep currents

If I just drove off from here

heading toward the setting sun

would the mast be ready

and the wind be friendly when I arrived?

Would the breeze show me the way?

then upon a rocky coast

dripping with rain and ferns

would your kind eyes greet me?

Pamela Olson