Poems, Songs, and Shorts

When She Loved Me by Sarah McLaughlin Esperanto Lyrics

When somebody loved me, everything was beautiful

Kiam iu amis min, ĉio estis bela

Every hour we spent together, lives within my heart

Ĉiu horo pasigita kune vivas en mia koro

And when she was sad, I was there to dry her tears

Kiam ŝi estis malfelicia, Mi sekigis ŝiajn larmojn

And when she was happy, so was I, when she loved me

Kiam ŝi estis feliĉa, ankaŭ mi estis. Kiam ŝi amis min

Through the summer and the fall, we had each other, that was all

Tra somero kaj aŭtuno, ni havis unu la alian, jen ĉio

Just she and I together, like it was meant to be

Nur ŝi kaj mi kune, kiel ni devus esti

And when she was lonely, I was there to comfort her

Kiam ŝi estis soleca, Mi konsolis ŝin

And I knew that she loved me

Kaj mi sciis, ke ŝi amas min

So the years went by, I stayed the same

La jaroj pasis, mi restis la sama

But she began to drift away, I was left alone

Sed ŝi komencis drivi. Mi restis sola

Still I waited for the day

Mi atendis la tagon

When she’d say “I will always love you”

Kiam ŝi dirus “Mi ĉiam amos vin”

Lonely and forgotten, never thought she’d look my way

Soleca kaj forgesita, Mi neniam sciis, ke ŝi rigardos min

And she smiled at me and held me, just like she used to do

Kaj ŝi ridetis al mi, tenis min, same kiel ŝi antaŭe

Like she loved me, when she loved me

Kiel ŝi amis min, kiam ŝi amis min

When somebody loved me, everything was beautiful

Kiam iu amis min, ĉio estis bela

Every hour we spent together, lives within my heart

Ĉiu horo pasigita kune vivas en mia koro

When she loved me

Kiam ŝi amis min

Bliggety Blogs · Poems, Songs, and Shorts · WakingWitches & WanderingWunderkammer

Come and Sit, a poem on my Medicine Wheel Circle.

Come and Sit, a poem for my Medicine Wheel Circle

Sitting in a Sacred way,

With each new sun, we offer and pray,

To East and North, South and West.

Walking the Wheel, loving our best.

We honor our tears, past, now, and yet,

Ancestors guide us through every threat,

And trial and season and even each love.

Our Elders teach honor to Sky Father above,

Earth Mother below, and the Nations around.

May we follow the Medicine Wisdom we’ve found,

Until one day, we be Ancestor ourselves,

To guide the Seven generations that in love may dwell.

In Peace, Humility, Compassion too,

If none have said it today, I DO love YOU.

-C.M.

Bliggety Blogs · Poems, Songs, and Shorts

A Lament For The Little Ones Lost

People watch as a convoy of truckers and other vehicles travel in front of the former Kamloops Indian Residential School in support of the Tk’emlups te Secwepemc people after the remains of 215 children were discovered buried near the facility, in Kamloops, Canada, on June 5, 2021. – Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau on June 4 urged the Catholic Church to “take responsibility” and release records on indigenous residential schools under its direction, after the discovery of remains of 215 children in unmarked graves. (Photo by Cole Burston / AFP) (Photo by COLE BURSTON/AFP via Getty Images)

A Lament For The Little Ones Lost

Little Ones, we bring you home

from your earthy bed,

Treated so poorly thus in life,

In Mother Earth you rest your head.

Snatched and clawed from your mothers’ arms,

Beaten down, mistreated,

Hurts beyond past numbering,

Your dead now reach far passed alarm.

Innumerable crimes have gone untold,

Tears as the tide come in,

Little voices in the wind,

Their sweet lights now forever cold.

With Ancestors and Mother you now do dwell,

In that “Residential” grave.

We’ll bring you home, now don’t you cry,

Always know, this isn’t farewell.

For our Ceremony never ends,

Our Wheel is ever turning.

Always in prayer for Little Ones lost,

Sisters, Brothers, Relatives, and Friends.

*https://www.tehrantimes.com/news/462406/Around-1-000-Indigenous-child-victims-found-in-Canada-in-less

*https://you.leadnow.ca/petitions/kamloops-indian-residential-school-215-bodies-found-call-for-urgent-action

*https://www.mprnews.org/story/2021/05/29/more-than-200-bodies-found-at-former-indigenous-school-in-canada

*https://nypost.com/2021/06/24/unmarked-graves-found-at-another-indigenous-school-in-canada/

Bliggety Blogs · Poems, Songs, and Shorts

The Tragedy of The Eastland Disaster

For more information on The Eastland and the tragedy that befell it’s crew and passengers, please visit The Eastland Disaster Historical Society and share it’s story so that the loss that occurred on the Chicago River may never be forgotten.

This poem was inspired by Caitlin Doughty and her coverage of The Eastland at her Youtube channel here, at Ask A Mortician. Please enjoy her other content as well! She is a treasure and a real leader in the death positivity moment, a group aiming to change the way we view, explore, and experience death as a culture and society.

Poems, Songs, and Shorts · WakingWitches & WanderingWunderkammer

The Lamentations of Set

Oh Most High Father, Earth’s grace, Lord of All, your son cries your name in lamentation.

Great is my shame, as sharp as the blade I sheath within the flesh of the Great Worm. Large have been my boastings, my wrongs, and my iniquities. Equally as sizable is the wound that lay within my breast, stinking and festering to the Heavens. Heavy is the weight of my burden as this hour grows late.

Your forgiveness is a balm but the cut of anguish pricks me still. I guard the Sun Barque by night when I wish nothing but to bask in the light of her that is the day.

Golden is she, that goddess of my heart. Monumental has been my grief ever since our story began. But my sister remains and ever will be the heart and soul of our brother, Asar. One half of the whole that they share. Perhaps it was destiny that my sister wife, her twin, should come to despise me so. For how much more monstrous would be my lot if her image continued to be forced to my side? They cannot love me, cannot be mine, because their hearts already belong to their King.

So to the desert, my wasted lands, so seemingly empty and yet still managing to cling still to life. To survive and thrive through adversity, as I shall continue to do into time immemorial. I will bring the sting of the sword and the storm to our enemies and maybe someday that seeping wound will slowly become a scar, ugly for the memory but ultimately a sign of meeting adversity and coming out the victor. Coming out the better for it.

Your dark son, the Living Tempest,

Set.

Poems, Songs, and Shorts · WakingWitches & WanderingWunderkammer

Skies Shining Bright Above Me…

This sunset was so beautiful I just had to share it. One of my favorites things to photograph are skyscapes. Nature’s own passion painting made of wisps of air sand refracted light, the turning of the Earth it’s own paintbrush. 🥰 What’s your favorite thing to photograph, draw or paint? Let me know!

Bliggety Blogs · Poems, Songs, and Shorts · WakingWitches & WanderingWunderkammer

Words Go Up, But Thoughts Below

Asar, Lord of the Duat, take him into your shining fields.

Anpu, Protector of the Dead, guide him through the winding dark paths and places.

Setekh, Warrior of the Way, protect him as his spirit finds its way.

Nebet-Het, Mother of Mourners, be with us as we grieve.

Aset, Lady of Life, give his spirit breath again into his next life.

Hewet-Her, Comforter of Comforters, hold him fast as he travels into the lands of the West. 

Tehuti, Writer of All Wisdom, give me the knowledge and strength to comfort and give guidance to my family in this time of loss.

Today, after a painful battle with a rare form of cancer, we buried my grandfather. I ended up at home alone after the wake and found myself with a terrible problem. No matter what I did or tried, no matter how much I wanted it, I could not make my brain focus on anything. I wasn’t overcome with sadness, nor were constantly shifting thoughts stealing my attention. There was no depression and all I thought about the wake itself was that I hated to leave my grandmother Ruby to go home alone. I didn’t want her to have to go back to an empty house that would never feel like a home again.

National Novel Writing Month was in full swing but the words wouldn’t come. What was wrong with me? Maybe it was the headache that was working itself out. Maybe it was fatigue. Grief? All I had in me was busy just processing the day, trying to let go of all of the hundred conversations and people. The casket, the coffee. The bowl of mints, the director’s  nametag and my mother’s tears. 

I found myself writing out, instead of my poor NaNo novel, just an unpunctuated, long single stream of thought with no rhyme or reason. Then, my hopes and prayers for my granddaddy as his spirit passes on. It gave me a sense of…peace. Something like happiness but less than joy. Like he was standing there watching the proceedings and seeing how there wasn’t just tears but there were smiles and humor too. Seeing how the family shored together despite differences and even, in some cases, not even knowing one another. There’s support there and there’s love. I could see him there. He’d probably be wearing navy and looking kind of sheepish with his hands in the pockets of his slacks, his watch on and his chin scruff and he’d be smiling because I think he’d be happy with what he saw. 

Afterwards, I still felt like I’d been hit by a truck but on the inside, it felt like finding peace. 

My grandaddy, Lehman Franks. I will see you again someday. When we walk the Field of Reeds together, our family will be whole once again.
Adventures In Unschooling · Bliggety Blogs · Eco-Loving Living! · Poems, Songs, and Shorts

Moss Garden Mystique

So if you’ve been following my blog for a long time you may have noticed something.

I L O V E moss. It is my favorite plant, hands down. I would rather have a pretty moss than flowers any day. 2 weeks ago I noticed that my Moss garden container had rusted through the bottom and had started to fall in so that the soil was actually falling through it onto the ground.

Rather than risk it damaging the moss garden itself, I decided to relocate it into a different container but also into my backyard instead of in the front of the house. Mostly because the only container I had for it that would be big enough was my daughter’s old kiddie pool. So I took an afternoon and moved it. It’s new container doesn’t look the nicest and because there’s actually more room now then there was before, the Moss is going to have to grow back together to cover any bare spots.

Nevertheless, it is another step on our journey. 🙂 I have several different mosses in my garden that I collected from our home forest. Several of them came from our forest school spot that we don’t get to visit much anymore since Daddy Maxwell and I got Lyme disease. The ticks out here in Tennessee are outrageous and keeping them off of you 100% is a pretty impossible feet. I’ve been too nervous to go back into the forest sadly but at least I still have my little moss garden to look at and to remind me of the beauty that can be found there.

These are some of my photos my little garden that I wanted to share with you today! Maybe it will brighten your day as well. Most of my photos are taken using a camera app called Foodie that my sister introduced me to for photographing cookies that I sell. It takes the best pictures I’ve ever taken and even has the ability to edit those pictures in the app.

Moss isn’t just pretty though, it’s pretty fascinating! Did you know that even though moss is a plant, it doesn’t have roots? That’s why you often see it attached to rocks and the sides of old stone stairs, etc. It gets its moisture and nutrients from the air and from the water that falls above it. That’s why moss is always so bright and green and lush after it rains. It’s color often tells you how much moisture it’s had. Even though it might be brown, it may not be dead, just dehydrated! Kind of like a rows of Jericho but to a much lesser degree of extreme.

This time of the year, the home school method we use for our nature school has a whole week dedicated to mosses, mushrooms, lichen, and fungi. It’s one of my favorite units!

This was what my moss garden looked like when I started it this second time. Once it fills in a little more, I plan on doing something pretty with it like making it into a fairy garden or a zen garden. Something like that.
This is my garden as of posting this. 🙂

Already my garden is filling in really nicely and the moss is settling. I also collect abandoned birds nests after their particular species has finished with them (if they don’t come back the following year) so I added two of them to the garden just for something extra.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this up close view into one of my favorite things! Maybe next time you see a little moss patch, you might stop thinking ‘bleh’ and start thinking ‘awwww’! You never know what you might come to think is adorable when you stop and take a closer look!

With peace and passion for the natural world,

Ta!

Bliggety Blogs · Poems, Songs, and Shorts

Poetry In Pictures: Rain

There’s something inherently magical to me about rain. I’ve waxed poetic about it in one of my first posts here on WordPress but today, I’m sharing the sacred, life giving rain with you through the camera lense. I hope it inside you as it inspired me. Along with my photos, I also want to share the Algonquin Water Song.

This Algonquin water song was written by Irene Wawatie Jerome, assisted by Kathleen DeShane, for Grandfather William Commanda’s Circle of All Nations Gathering (Canada, 2002). It’s words say,

‘Water is the life’s blood of our Mother, the earth.

Water is the life blood of our own body.

Women are the keepers of the water.’

It is the Grandmother’s vision that people will learn this song and carry it with them, singing it and honoring the water. One day, that we might heal the water of the Earth.

The Algonquin Water Song can be found at www.singthewatersong.com as well as lyrics and translations.

With Peace and Passion,

Ta!