Starlight Stones

We dance,
On tiny stones
Of starlight.
Our pathway,
Is between
Darkness and night.
Sweet scents
Softly sing
Of white flowers
In dreams.
Each touch
The grace of
Eternal breath.

Agawela 21February2020

The Shut Door

The Shut Door – non fiction

Not so long ago, late October of 2015, in an extremity of exhaustion, … physical and emotional, my little car’s gas gauge even said empty, I went to a close relative’s home to ask to rest there for the night. Before I could ask for help, I was harshly turned away. My loved ones answered the door and yelled at me “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE??? ARE YOU CRAZY???!!!” This was at 8:00 PM.

I sat for a while, looking at the locked house, trying to collect my destroyed self back into my exhausted body from where I had shattered in a silent explosion of despair and grief. I didn’t understand what had happened.

It is true I did not follow proper social protocol and telephone several days ahead to ask if it was OK for me to stop by at a particular time on a prearranged evening. However, the circumstances, that brought me there, had made that courtesy completely impossible. But they didn’t know that. I took some time trying to figure out what had triggered such an extreme negative reaction to my own terrible need, and my joyous happiness, at seeing family after a prolonged (and for me, terribly trying) absence.

I had some water, which I drank. The purity of the mountain well water restored me physically. I am grateful. The personal heartbreak of the shut door has never left me.

My gas tank was empty, but I still had enough money for fuel, so I went to get it, before I continued my journey.

I stopped at a convenience store with poor exterior lighting and the parking lot was surrounded by heavy shrubbery. The clerk was a woman working alone in a “convenience” store. She asked me to stay with her a while, as it was night, well after dark, and she was alone and afraid of some persons hanging around at the edge of the parking lot. I also had noticed them while gassing up.

After the persons had gone. I stayed with her until she expressed relief, and acted, with her body language, as if she felt strong and safe again. She had also made arrangements for some nearby friends to phone her regularly.

Was this event the REAL reason that I was turned away?

Bear — 31December2019


I am
The Blank Space
Your Heart
I am
This Voice
This blowing wind
This katajjaq
Singing calling
A whirling of
No words
Do you not feel
This Voice
This blowing wind
I am
The Banshee
The Blank Space
Your Heart
I call with my
Twisted face
I love you
But what about
This Voice
This blowing wind
I am not dead
I did not die
I live within
I am the
Empty Hollowness
Your Heart
Your Heart
Stop it’s
Pulsing beat
It is I
This Voice
This blowing wind
That shall
Drift softly
Away humming
Descending crescendo
Finally to still
Leaving empty
Drafty and echoing
The blank space
Your Heart
This Voice
This blowing wind
Could never
Bear … 08.01.2019
old poem reworked

Hollow Flesh

His flesh is empty.
His voice is
The Black Wind
Carrying no message.
Behind his eyes
Linger screams
Of children,
His ears are stoppered
With deceit and lies.
He is death
Clothed in
He is Hollow Flesh.
Agawela 05/19/2019
©Bearspawprint 2019

Lotus Grows In Mud

Their hearts
Only mud.
Lotus seed
Each heart.
In which
Will awareness
The Lotus
Fully formed
The seed.
And eternity
Are one.

Bear Agawela 0/16/2019
©Bearspawprint 2019