Magic Moments

We were at the beach

My grand daughter and I…

Already the coolness had seeped

Into the sand,  and the waves

Were washing colder on the shore.

Not so long ago she was a tiny toddler

And I held her in my arms

As we sat on the little deck of my Belmore home.

She was tiny enough for me

To cradle her head against my chest

Long fuschia robe about us.

She sighed in utter contentment, and

My heart overflowed with love for her.

It was an angelic moment locked in time.

The days were winding down now

Many geese had gone south

And the Robins too that year

Last day of August and not one to be seen!...

Autumn was in the air…but my heart soared, because

I had my grand daughter with me.

Rolled up jeans at the beach, and a big, grey sweatshirt

Long, spindly legs growing her into a big girl

Ready now for school.

My heart cried and my soul ached

For the world seemed so big and cruel for her

And no amount of big, grey sweatshirts

Could really protect her.

But my life had taught me

All about letting go

And I had to deliver her home

To her busy and able family

And knew that she ultimately would be safe

Protected always by our love.

With love to you Summer, forever, Grandma

Dad's Last Stand

I got up that morning same as always

Kind of surprised I was still around

Well, breakfast for one more day anyways

Cereal and evaporated milk and pearl tea, half a banana…

When I think back now I’d been talkin’ ‘bout dyin’ for quite some time

My brother dropped dead of a heart attack at forty-six so

I kind of thought the same thing might happen to me.

I was always talkin’ ‘bout my heart givin’ out so that

No one would be too surprised, kind of warning them you see

I never thought I’d be livin’ yet at almost ninety-one

Oh, I could be ornery, I know that and most of the time

I kind of liked to just be alone, no one to bother me

But I did like when the kids would come home to visit

And I tried to put on a cheerful face most of the time when they did come ‘round.

I‘d had a dream one night ‘bout a big house with all kinds of room

Thought it was Maw had come to get me and was showin’ me around

The ceilings were so darn high, and I wondered why you’d waste all that space!

Guess it was a dream, thought it was, but it seemed different than that

Kind of like I was really there.

Later there was a lady came in the laneway and she was the one

Found me lyin’ on my face next to the tree at the back

Where I used to wash up after hayin’

Just fell down and stayed there, that was it then.

Saved Glenn  findin’ me, was better that way.

I stayed around  ‘til they called Gun and Carol, they had to

Get the police to come and make all that fuss,

Hardly seemed worth all that bother.

What else did they expect to happen when it was

An old bugger like me?

Ninety-one, imagine that.

Well I finally got to go see Maw.

They done ‘er up right, nice funeral like Maw’s was…..

I always told them not to feel bad, made me feel bad

To see them all cryin’

Well I sure had enough time.

Nice up here in this here mansion with the tall walls…

Awful nice seein’ Maw again ‘a course

Still can’t see why they wasted all that space.

with love to my Dad,

cailin raine

Summer Song

Out here on the rocks, indented with fossils, are scratched initials and memories

Echoes of voices past, linger and toss, then sit in the stone shadows

Reminding me of brown, sturdy, sandy feet, straw hats, and strong bones

They stay my heart with their summer song, playing its magic in the long afternoon.

Out here on the rocks,  the outermost shouts of innocence reverberate

Running and tiny toes clamp themselves beside me in ghostly print

An elder’s guiding hand clasps the little one, dear, beside the slower soul

In my mind’s eye, I see the clear gaze of the child, trained on the horizon

Watching the sun blaze its way into regretful descent, leaving behind one more day.

Out here on the rocks, the smashing water wings the air with puffs of soft wind

Treading time with the higher tendrils of breeze floating against my arms

Higher still, the upper air currents carry the gulls along happy trails

They scream their joy, call out their life, their sturdy wings sky-scraping the evening.

Out here on the rocks I watch the golden pathway paved upon pewter liquid

Shimmering in bronze towards the sun-god of the sky, now cast in blue shadow

Against the robin’s egg hue just above the horizon, its centre burning bullion.

Out here on the rocks, strands of peaceful thought drift like sand in the air

Caressing my temples with cotton-gloved fingers, stroking my mind in languid rhythm.

Out here on the rocks, I have come to sit alone, to drink in one more September night

Before air chills cold,  rocks sleep under ice, and frost creeps over the last memories.

cailin raine

Trails

When I was a very little girl my family went on a picnic at a huge park

There were magical, winding trails that led you by tiny cabins and fairies

It was a charmed and make-believe world and I was totally captivated

There were places where the signs said to tiptoe and I found it easy to obey

My parents must have let me go off alone, which meant it was not far from them

But I felt all alone in the universe and enthralled beyond words, I needed none.

At a bend I was tiptoeing, having read the sign, and then glanced up at a house

The lady who lived there was looking out the window and smiling at me

Years later I had to think that I was likely a cute little sight, brown ringlets

Elated  grin, eyes alight with enjoyment, unfettered glee in just “being”

I was surprised to find someone actually living in this enchanted forest

But it did not spoil my fascination with the fairies, imps and leprechauns.

Years later, I realize that I was born with this utter love for trails, forests

Any pathway, for me is and forever will be irresistible, enticing, necessary

I must ramble along it and find where it goes, what surprise is beyond…

Around the next curve there may be a bubbling spring or a tiny bridge

A doe or a buck or a fawn perched and ready to run, hesitating then

Because they feel no danger from me, only my utter love and delight

With the ways of the forest and of the animals who make their home

Amongst the kind, leaning trees that seem to whisper of magic.

cailin raine

I Know Old Now

I am only beginning now to understand me
Who I am and what makes me tick
Five decades and more now, almost sixty
Am I not supposed to be a woman anymore?
Inside I am a girl
I brush my long hair and like its softness
I still crave the body of a man
I still need his touch at the deepest place in me
My eyes still look the same in the mirror
And I notice more now than I ever did.

I love more now the gentleness of the rain
I see more in its raindrops and feel more with its touch
I look into the snow crystal and see a world beyond 
Mirrored and mirrored again in multiple slant and colour
I feel the depth of the fawn’s life as he lies stilled at the road’s edge
And sense the mother just beyond the grove of trees, waiting there…
I imagine more now in each glimpse of another’s life
And I understand her perception like never before.

Why then am I ousted to another spot,
Away from real life and importance and matter?
Am I now too outdated? 
Because my life borders on another level that younger people avoid?
Because I do not walk the usual path?
Because the grey in my hair shows?
Because the lines in my face make younger people guilty?
Makes them wonder how they will cope when it happens to them.

But I live more now than I ever did
Even though my movements are slower and my thoughts might seem fuzzy...
There is a razor edge just beyond touch
And I often journey there.

When I walk I am glad for the body I live in
When I am still I find rest in peaceful awareness
As I breathe I am grateful for the air I take in
I feel my lungs, my breath, my life.

Cast me away then, no longer needed really
Ideas from the past redundant
Ways gone by only written now in poetry
Words and phrases lost to time
But so rich and you don’t know what you are missing!
Watch my step and even though I falter, I am 
More aware now of the earth beneath my step and the mistiness of the air
I see the bird pause to watch me from the branch and I see into her soul.

Like never before now, like never before.

cailin raine

Eight Sister Willow Trees

Eight, willow sisters lean in grandness, wispy branches sweeping low
Backed by marsh and mirrors and geese, ducks quacking with content 
I stand in awe, there is nothing like a new trail
One I have never been on before…and all the sights
Are fresh and filled with wonder, airy and full of the soft-falling
Night, …the day is darkening, barely perceptible, but evening
Comes softly in shadows and quiet and a calmness that is sweet.

The gravel trail has a loud crunch beneath my hiking boots
The sky is feathered in sprays of white against the soft, pale blue
I sit on the one wooden bench, perched high above the marsh
And watch the silver shooting star, the jet climbing straight up
Its double streak is white and etched with blank spots, tufts now
Below it, black birds glide against the backdrop of dewy night ness
I lean back and smell the cider fragrance of rotting apples fallen.

I trudge on, and watch the blond corn standing still, waiting, all done growing,
Knowing inside the dried-out cobs and the light-stained, yellow leaves
That harvest time will again change the landscape to barren and brown.
Sumacs sit empty of their crimson last stand, bare, furry branches stilled
The backdrop of soft, yielding, white pine trees offer an oasis of green
Verdant abundance amongst the grey and brown, bare, deciduous branches.
High above, the half-moon caps the tranquility with its own stillness.

I stop, staggered, when I spot the doe, she standing like a statue
Trying to outsmart the hunter in orange, hidden way back in the bush. 
The contrast is harsh, and I call to her, warning her of her vivid enemy
I am bold, I yell at him loudly, “ I hope you don’t get her!” I scream
It fits the night air, like it knows my meaning, I am sticking up for 
One of her own, and the doe runs then to the thicket, and soon I see
The bobcat crouched in the tall grass, she too avoids the strangeness…
Something invades the privacy of nature-filled creation, an oddity now
That lurks in the air, the suggestion of gunpowder, and the stark, orange glare.
Invaders intruding in this artistry softly framed by the graceful, bowing 
Branches of the eight, willow, sister trees, trying vainly to stand guard.

cailin raine

The Perfect Dance

for my daughter, Tanis, with love

A stride that speaks of fitness

Not just a truly healthy air

But each muscle speaking for itself

Comfortable in its frame of reference

Swimmer, athlete, every muscle toned

Easy movement, unaware of effortless pace

A ramble born of countless hours, breathing in puff mode

Work born of determination, pushing on

Leaving comfort zone for another higher one

The mother observes with maternal pride

The silhouette in black is perfect, swimmer’s shoulders

Top the ideal body profile, angles sloping downward

Dark slimness outlined by the white, chalky gravel

Hard background to match the hardness of arriving

Laps and laps and run upon run have shaped a newness

This painless gait now at home in itself

Possessing a marathon strength

Acceptance shows in subtle space…faultless form a choice

Mother heart bursts in lioness smugness…but also a sadness

Because this feline spirit from her womb does not need her

She has become this strong woman all on her own

She treads down the rocky slope of lane way

Unaware that she performs the perfect dance.

                                                                                            

                                                                                               Love Mom

Swamp People

Oh the swamp people were truly

One of a kind

Behind their curtains

Sly eyes slid

Across the room to tell

To beckon, come see, whatever it was

They could watch from

Behind their dingy curtains.

Swamp people live damply

Clinging to past thoughts, ways gone

But stuck wetly to their "innards"

Rotted teeth and little minds

Stumps and old vines cut off

But spreading anyway in dumb regret

For the old and sallow ways

Swamp people hold grudges

And live fleetingly, stealful

Behind their silly, useless curtains.

Walk that way and watch

The curtains move...

Slightly.

cailin raine

Ten Thousand Kisses Deep

Alias:  “Ode to The Men That Woo”

I need this substance, this creative dream of mind and essence

Men, legends across time, history made simply by their being

Ladies’ men, remembered more, better, because they remain long

In the hearts of women; these men who act and rule and write and sing....
"So Long, Marianne"...

Dustin, Leonard, Christopher and Pierre, I bow and admire and yearn

The stuff of steel and poetry and humour and strength and song

Words, rhyme, famous lines, quotes, verse that touches soul, a smile…
"Just watch me!",

Your faces etched in the depths of me, songs bottomless with love

Soul to soul you have reached me in the places most do not

My body stretches and my mind extends and my arms reach out

I need the endless kiss of “ten thousand kisses deep",

I have lived this need that lurks inside our souls, always searching for more.

Dark Leonard, I am with you inside the ten thousand lonely nights

Why anyone's path to be deprived, when we carry the passion of devils…

Is that one thing that I shall never understand, no, not at all.

Men like you ride somewhere beneath the moon, or in the sunlight's rays

Your words follow us to our graves; I will follow the sky and the edge of the light

Until I find that my arms have finally reached your kind, and I can stay inside

The deep-throated kiss…

                                                                                    

                                                                                                   cailin raine

The Nurse

She is harsh and sympathetic at the same time

Accomplishment worn from nursed and routine conditions

She is solid and strong and borderline cruel

But tempered by a soft hand and curved breast

And one sad, hidden tear.

She brushed it away with a shot of arm

A dash of finger blurred by quickness and

Her bright, flashing smile.

She thought I did not see...

But the lines around her eyes give away

The frozen memories standing just behind their shadow,

Hard and rimmed and worn.

The frayed lashes seemed to liquidate the lines just enough

To allow the escape,

The flow of the solitary tear.

She bends over me, her bosom brushing mine

But she does not think of that.

There is a brisk doneness about her

Which envelopes me in her presence.

Long ago she shoved her youth aside

And hid it like a precious penny.

It slides inside the deep purse of her lips;

It glitters a bit in the sheen of saliva on her lip,

But stays close to the cavity of moist space

Deep in her ample throat

Where hiding is possible.

The copper warmth of her secret obeys

For it has her personal order.

It is a must stay from the Mrs.

cailin raine

Good Stuff

written September 1, 1995

Good stuff is all around us
Free for the taking
"Good" because it is made by
God's own Hands.

Good stuff is man and woman
Together...
As they are meant to be.

Good stuff is outside
And within
It is water stuff
And stars at night
Full moons, storms, and lightning battles
Winds and flowers
Fuzzy critters and butterflies.

Good stuff is seen by Art and me
Cat lovers
Colours and music
And the very best is when all the good stuff
Seems to come together
In a mix of really good stuff.

We are all seeking
The really good stuff.

Good stuff is old and leather
Wood and split rails
Cotton and wool and natural...
Canoes and cabins and cats
Are good stuff.

Camping is good
And mountain trails
Open lands and wide smiles
Trail bikes and jeeps
Hiking is really good stuff.

Good stuff is helping each other
Herbs and healthy stuff
Honeymoons and starlit nights of love
King size beds and candles
Hot tubs and more water stuff
Plants and green foliage that make
The air clean and a joy to breathe in...

I am so thankful for
All the really good stuff.

cailin raine

The Gift

He takes the grain and with loving Hands
Sifts the kernels and the worthy seed
From the chaff, the worthless husks of refuse.
Why can we not accept that the chaff no longer remains?
That it is tossed, thrown mercifully away!
Removed as far as the east is from the west.
But instead, the chaff clings
Itching, irritating, preventing, stifling, smothering
Destroying us with its intangible power ~
Clinging to the inner chambers of our minds
Eroding our souls with torment and ridicule
Permeating our memories with useless dribble
Existing only in erroneous imagination
Imagery of a killing sort.
We are forgiven.

Why can we not embrace the Gift?
And truly live in creative Love for one another
Living, enjoying, growing
In the nourishing Light of His everlasting mercy.

cailin raine

Love Stained Page

In Loving Memory of My Mother, Reta Mae Genoe (Weber)

October 18^th,1913 -  August 16^th, 1996

Love Stained Page

‘Tis the weeping blood of Christ that is pressed upon this page

Brought by my departed Mother’s love, just beyond the grave

The weeping light, white lily brought this crimson blood to life

And stained these pages with its blood, to help lessen my strife

Stained here to remind me that the Son died on the Cross

That there was great Atonement , to help me conquer loss

For daily struggle in each life, stress and pain and more

Moves us to be stronger and to walk towards that Shore.

Lord knows I’ve walked some wrong paths, swayed from following Him

The rainbows, sun were hidden and my thoughts of God were dim

There were Changes ever straining me, pushing me to grow

What lies ahead is God’s will, and He watches me below

As I turn these red, stained pages, I see the beauty there

And am moved to look to Heaven, then bow my head in Prayer

I knew there was a Reason that I chose the lily white…

She is there blooming in my garden to remind me what is right.

I thank the Lord for Mother, who still gives beyond the grave

The rainbow, cardinal, lily, rose, with love to me she gave

And so I pressed the lily white against this Holy page,

Watched her bleed her Message and grow more beautiful with age.

with love, cailin raine

Crooked Creek

It was a rainy day when I found Crooked Creek
I'd walked south from my cabin, where I'd been just one week.

The raindrops softly coaxed me from my gentle, spurting fire
And I knew that in the damp, fresh air that I would not soon tire.

I'd come this way just once before, but stopped short of the fence
For saplings grew in twisted clumps, and the undergrowth was dense.

But as the silky raindrops fell, I'd spotted a tiny fawn
And knew that I would follow her, perhaps back to my own lawn.

But she cleared the fence with perfect ease, and I was bent to find
Just where her dainty path might lead; it seemed we were of one mind.

She led me to the gushing spring from whence clean water poured
And the purest liquid bubbled, pooled, then down Crooked Creek it roared.

I knew the creek, she's aptly named, she has many twists and bends
And just like Life's own pathway, down yonder murky depths she ends.

But only for a little while does she run underground
And then she re-emerges, more swift and strong, profound!

For as in Life, it seems she's found that there is no need to hide
And after Life's harsh, painful ways, there is Another Side.

And on that Other Side we find a happiness profound
We think back to the time our thoughts were mostly homeward bound.

It's then we find that time has gone and our minds are crystal clear
We see into the Blessed Mirror, there is nothing now to fear.

We will walk in shimmering sunlight, our footprints soft and neat
We'll look into His wondrous eyes, and now be made complete.

We'll think back to the time we saw the sweet young fawn so brown
And understand the meaning now, of the morning and the dawn.

There always is another chance, another day to pray
Another day to follow Him, another way to say...

"Lord, You are so beautiful, and I remember You,
I can see your laughing eyes, your throat so brown and true.

Your head is thrown back laughing, and the love shines in your eyes."
I know then you were in that fawn, the veil so thin, it lies...

Just inside Your Heaven's door and sometimes You just choose
To come here and visit us, but we must watch for You!

We can choose to see You, your Glory all around
And after that last sunset, we finally are found.

Held so tightly in your arms, your precious baby home
We can then rest in You, beside your Wondrous Throne.

Lord, 'til then please help us, be with us each week
Guide our footsteps Father, as we flow down Crooked Creek.

cailin raine

On An Old Beech Tree

Two names on an old beech tree,

Who are we kiddin’, it’s you and me

We were walking the North Huron tract

So in love and that’s a fact

I led because it was my familiar way

You found it such a special day

I’d left a spot for you to make your mark

Since then we’ve hiked in daylight and dark

Two names on an old beech tree,

Oh honey, it’s always gonna be, you and me.

That old tree is scarred and worn

Many names on its bark, marked and torn

I’d walked that way so often, sad and alone

Sometimes cheerful, but sometimes forlorn

Praying for another compassionate heart

And I knew right from the start

That first time that I saw you smile

I knew there would never be another lonely mile

Two names on an old beech tree,

Ah, Honey, it really is just you and me.

cailin raine

I Would Touch Him Now

I would touch him now
Just the hem of his long coat

Or the cuff of his sleeve

Oh, but for another chance!

I was So close...

I had only to reach out my hand to touch him

As he shook and spoke with the Spirit ~

I was so dumb

Moved inside, but I could not move toward him.

He spake with His Authority

His Wisdom

In respect and awe and love and honour

In Obedience to His Majesty

His body trembled in human weakness

As the Great Spirit within,

Emerging with profound strength,

Made Itself known

To dispel all doubt

And ingest a healthy fear.

Messages given so majestic and powerful!

The wondrous energy surged from a Source beyond...

"I Am the Lord Thy God!"

I could not reach out to touch him then

But I would touch Him now.

cailin raine

Good Girls Holdin' On

Alias ~ Ode to the Women of Divorce

Girls, women, ladies graze like cows in the field chewin’ their cuds

Waitin’, watchin’, holdin’ on to what they have been taught

Told where to go and what to do….

Movin’ heavy bodies to the beat of the current music or the farmer’s whip.

Inside they’re plannin’ their escape

Through the fence and over the pasture to where the grass is greener

On the other side

Anything would be better than this!

Honey tits to suck on

Givin’ milk and sustenance to everyone else

Good girls roped in and corralled

Put in place for breedin’ and feedin’.

Some special fate is calling

But it has to be loud enough to be heard

Over the spittin’ and the fightin’ of the men in charge

The females trot to the time of the man clock

Their hands move around in the circle of shame

Goin’ round and round and there never is an end!

The time machine all wound up

Knowin’ there are unlived lives in their veins.

The men strive for great chemical reaction

Results that show in size and gain

Dense heads frying new lard into their brains again and again…

Is it any wonder we are bored?

Daily hate kills kind of like forever

Some of us brave enough to smoke little doobies to forget

A defense from the shitful world of men in control

Punchin’ knobs, clocks, buttons…all wound up for more of the same.

　

We sit at our kitchen counter smokin’

Where home has become hell

Holdin’ on, needin’ to glimpse the light or a hint of fragrance in the dung

Suckin’ tums to combat the acid

Growling deep within.

cailin raine