As elder and shaman, where does guidance
Originate? For decades, I only knew voices,
Wisdom of ages. I took to Kayak, sewn skin
And feather-light, to Greenlandic icy fiord
Waters, white-crested mountains bright
Glistening, Holy Breather of Life, winds
Descending, dancing upon receptive waters.
“Listen my son,” wave-voices beckoned.
“Jacopee is here,” said I, wave-voices to my
Mind speaking, spiritual reflections with
Scudding clouds, elevated above our villages,
My mind ascended to godly lofted planes,
Where my soul alighted with divine glories,
Timeless soapstone flame.
Upon these waters, I pled to sky and darting
Birds, pain of enlightenment, protection of
People, for they see not miracles of ancient
Eras, dream images holy ones have sent,
Formation of our world, molten rock,
Coalescing and colliding, Greenland and
Ellesmere Land, creation secrets they hold.
Suspended in their radiance, I ask, “Holy Ones,
How old is this earth?” “Each full moon equal
To sand grains on village beach,” they replied,
Swooning my soul fell to earth, my bed of skins
And moss. In telling moments, visions of
Ellesmere I received, visiting Silurian cliffs,
Exploring secrets hidden at their ancient feet.
My ice-desert wanderings, vast open waters
I beheld, shimmering in summer sunlight,
Humbling from clifftops to perceive. Within
Grasp of ancient rock, I discovered remnants
Of prehistoric creatures, their brittle lives
Preserved as fossils, forever engraved in stone,
Our lives, like theirs, blinks of geologic time.
By this awakening, I had been transformed, my
Fate realized, shaman I became, holy healer,
Servant of my people, intermediary between
Them, their needs and gods, and when praying
I clutch my fossil to my chest, too old now to
Take to icy seas and kayaks, such is fate of man,
To live, to serve, return to divine lantern-light.
Inspiration of open-ocean muse, whilst listening to “Damask Rose,”
soundtrack from “Blade Runner” by Vangelis, to commune with
knowing waves and music that inspires.