I’ve always felt a deep kinship with the air element and sing or speak often to the wind. Its resonance favored me with inspiration recently, and I wrote this poem, “Ode to the Wind.”
Thank you, wind, my airy friend, For cooling breezes beneath the summer sun As you whisper across my skin. I’ll still love you when winter comes When your chill pierces my cloak, And your frigid voice hums Upon every icy stroke. Thinking back to those summer days, I’ll recall your kinder touch Amid the sun’s blistering rays When for your respite we clutched. On these sonorous autumn days When winter feels a breath away, I’ll watch you and the leaves at play And for a moment stop and pray A gentle blessing upon the wind That carries every utterance we share, Whirling onward without an end, Dancing ever upon the living air.
I was communing with the trees this morning, and we spoke of the ancestors. (Yes, I talk with trees like the character in my first novel, Grandfather Poplar.) Trees hold their kindred in spirit as dearly as we do. Their memories remain in the trees that still live. We all retain the collective memory of our kin anchored deep within. The trees acknowledge the ones who came before and still think of them as living beings. Death is merely a passage, yet they treasure each moment of life and remain as long as they can, serving their purpose, living their light. Trees stay connected fully to their ancestors in spirit. Their kinship remains unbroken.
I often pray for the ancestors and try to live in a way that will honor them and their legacy and heal the family line of suffering. I believe our prayers can create a sacred space to extend pure love and grace through all the realms. May we relinquish all that we and our ancestors have held of trauma, fear, loss, and pain. May we unburden the ancestral lines for ourselves and for those who come before and after us.
In my heart and soul, I feel strongly that a moment of pure love reverberates through time and space and passes through all boundaries. We can send love into the past, present, and future and beyond the veil to all our kin and dear ones who are gone from the physical world. They feel our every memory and all the love we send.
Several years ago, my first cousin’s wife restored some black-and-white photos of the Henderson clan from over a century ago. I never met many of them because they died before I was born. I was thrilled by the photos and felt such an outpouring of love for every one of them. On the night I received the photos, they all came to life in a dream, and we had a most joyful celebration. The ones whom I never met were so happy to see and know me, and I was overjoyed to meet them and to reunite with those I had known and loved.
Trust that even now your loved ones in spirit are sending you love.
Every tree has a story for those who know how to listen with the heart. Deep roots tell the old tales of forest friends long gone, of whispered winds and screaming gales, and a million bird songs. Ancient trees hold the Earth’s secrets, the buried memories of times gone by, of every screech owl’s cry, of all that transpires beneath the illumined sky. They stand a silent record to the footfalls of each soul who passes, and they remember from the seedling’s first stretch until they breathe their last beneath the treasured sun. Cherish them and they may whisper into the quiet longings of your heart and share the wisdom of all they have seen in their time among the green. —Diana Henderson
Excerpt from Grandfather Poplar by Diana Henderson:
“Tears merged with the raindrops that streamed down her face. In her mind she had a vision of being wrapped in a grandfather’s arms, both of them weeping for something precious that was lost forever. She heard the weary cry of Redtail high above, his shrill and plaintive shriek signaling the need for nourishment and shelter from the sheets of rain, or perhaps he sensed their silent vigil and honored their grief with his own voice.” copyright 2005 Lillian D. Henderson
I walk the deer paths in the quiet of the wood and breathe in oneness with every creature and consciousness here. I am the sweet nectar of the songbird’s lilting trill. I am the sunlight sparkling on the leaves. I am the silent signal of the standing trees holding all in communion with the Earth. I am the soft whirring of the wind. I am the heart of healing light that lives in this realm of rebirth. I am the deep stillness of the forest consciousness grounding all within my reach. I walk; I crawl; I scurry; I fly; I shine. My roots stretch down into the soil. My limbs long for the embrace of the sky. My heart beats in The Silence. I am the forest. I am Spirit. I am alive. ~ Diana Henderson
Parents, grandparents, ancestors, long ago you paved my path into the heart of the forest. You walked in her stillness and let the hushed tones of the trees speak softly through your psyche. Your breath slowed in time with her pulse in autumn and winter. You felt the spring sing in your veins and the summer ignite your inner flame as she held you safe through the seasons of change. You let her call wash away the boundaries. She took from you the cares of life and wrapped you in her blanket of peace. In her bosom, you were whole. There in the woodlands you found respite. Nothing existed except the moment—the sound of the leaves beneath your footfalls, the droning from a high hornet’s nest, the cool damp or the glistening heat or the gentle wind brushing your face.
I cannot go into the forest without knowing you are with me. My blood, my bone, my life remember that you passed this way before me. I have stepped where once you stood and seen the wonders that you beheld so long ago. So today I walk in the rain to see the little brook flowing on its journey, to touch the dripping branches and feel my feet sink in the soft ground. Only one set of footprints in the mud perhaps, but a long line of loved ones walk with me.
copyright 2005 Lillian D. Henderson
