Skip to content

Song of Ocean

Poems by David Leo Krisjanson-Gural

Homemade Insanity

Trail Unwandered

every day at edge of the wood
i turn and take that same trail
down past the large pines
through thicket and sedge
where very little light gets through

i wonder about that other trail
the one that winds along river
light dancing on water washed
stones giving back tumble
of messages conjured by feet

i try not to judge myself
know what keeps me turning
down this same trail i’m learning
what’s inside is bigger
more mysterious and older

than i imagined i’m noticing
each stick and stone and field
and bone the brick
and curse trying not
to make me think twice

at once i’m small and just there
enough just tall enough
to see all the past
a spread-before-me
landscape hoping to be released

hoping that one day
when song of wind
word-wafting scent of berry
in bloom sets me a notion
to take that trail unwandered

i will obey

Song of Ocean

every day you find
in me stones i didn’t
know i had collected
reached down felt
put away

you place them
before me stacked
like a totem
a place to mark
the trail

i find them hard
but you like them
you tell me
about their colors
and shapes

and how every
new thing you
learn fills the beach
you come to
when you come to
find me

and if a beach
is what i can be
for you if i can
mark a trail for you
then yes i can be filled
by stones

i can make myself
whole by knowing
their edges the roundness
and flint that makes
the trail i wandered
known

makes the edge of our
ocean sing

even if the cold
and flint and solace
that’s made the stone
never tells its story
never knows more
than the way home

Opportunity

gather a skein of yarn
what we told ourselves
notice the colors

how the browns
greys and whites
make beauty

catch the light
weave them
try to make

comfort and warmth
tell yourself
every movement

toward the whole
creates a warp
an opportunity

each question you
contemplate
creates a weft

and so we gather
together what
least we expect

we pick up
a cup left
behind

say hello
to someone
we’ve never met

About the Author – David Leo Kristjanson-Gural

David Leo Krisjanson-Gural

David Leo Kristjanson-Gural is a father, teacher, scholar, writer, poet and novice woodworker whose work is directed to helping others understand ways in which our social systems cause harm and to heal from that harm by creating new ways to live, work and support each other. He shares a home with his family in the Susquehanna Valley where he teaches economic alternatives and, until recently, he co-directed Wild Goose Farm, a sustainability education center with intergenerational programs to inspire people to transition to regenerative ways of living and growing.

Keep Reading…

  • At the Airport Bubble
    The bathroom medicine cabinet—It has been three weeks. This will be the easiest I think. It isn’t. I can’t stop the mist in my eyes as I toss everyday medicines left over from normal ailments, the healthy days, the pre-cancer days.
  • the promise, malice, lazarus returns
    the last surviving member of Heaven’s Gate reflects on failure I thought you were coming back had wrapped up everything was ready to be taken away
  • pre/mo/cognition, optimism is a mutated mule
    there’s something happening that I can’t quite catch. something hiding, birthing, like the egg of a maggot, itching to hatch, quite slight— barely there—
Meanwhile, at Dreamers…

Tags: