“When the tide goes out, the table is set.” — Salish saying
Can coastal ghosts take
control of boards that
meet on ancestral strands?
Possession risks captivity.
If shades shake down deals
and the sea retreats quick,
everyone knows a tsunami will soon rush toward our rich new tourist attraction.
Corporations and quests
and yes the help
must evacuate or buy it.
To woo deep being
with vacations
we won’t erase more
trade-free space
or hitch to undertows of
absentee privilege.
Turtle Island calls
depleted souls
for reunion with nature,
re-creation.
Dressed as shoppers
some stop by
my storybook garage
seeking characters and
plots to shore up
wild pacific balance.
Spirit stirs words
in the sojourner churn.
Office foam blows away
back into community.
Our work ties hard
barnacle knots,
slams vocations to
tidal stay-homes.
Yet native bonds carry
primordial sweets,
like the touch of old
surfer hands who gently
friend rather than grab
and dominate.
Frogskin chiefs either
tend life’s weal
or lord over
company souvenirs.
Being or property,
the choice is set.
Devotion waves off castles
made on one-night sands,
holds locals close
to lush round magic.
Powerful words and images!
This poem is a challenge to comprehend, at least for me. But that is the nature of poetry; much said in few words. Your words, Watt, say this to me:
The poem focuses on the NeCus’ Cultural Center which is rising from the old Cannon Beach School. Also rising are the “ghosts” and “shades” of the people who once called this place home. They knew, and current villagers know, that this place could be wiped out by an earthquake and its tsunami at any time. Who is in control of this? No one. Maybe the ancestors, who knows? So let’s push on. We can renew the buildings now, or forget it. The buildings could be razed. The land given back to nature. But the villagers of today choose to use the old buildings for new purposes. Descendents of past NeCus’ villagers agree and join in. Maybe nature and the buildings can live together as a welcoming center like the old NeCus’ village. Visitors will come to see and judge. Will the old ways to be represented on the site stir their considerations of nature and unity at home? Hopefully so. The bonds of those tied to this place are strong. Old and new natives have “being” in this place to preserve together.
That is it for now. There is much that can be found in this poem and its message of working together in the interests of place. Thank you, Watt.
Thank you for jumping in Darrell. My attempted poems share feelings and ideas that often flow beyond the bounds of linear thought. This one began with the soul/muscle memory of shaking hands with an elder indigenous leader, a gesture so gentle it felt more like holding hands. I’m praying such gentle connections can help villagers reprioritize our use of limited resources. City managers along our coasts are prone to push big spending on projects that seek to boost tourism. Meanwhile, community needs go unmet. Today’s budgets are as short-sighted as our care for the environment. This trend is unsustainable, even when it’s accompanied by attractive regalia.
Your “soul memory”, Watt, could describe the place called NeCus’. It teems with “ghosts” and “shades.” My own view of NeCus’ is that I have no view. It is its own place. It has purpose as perceived by the ancient spirits who care for it. Personally, I would raze the buildings and return the land to its original state under care of the ancestors. I think that today the ancestors are in the form of a tribal trust. One that would restore the place to its origins before modern times. NeCus’ would become so serene and natural that it would seed a new world of community. The wisdom of the elders would rise from the land for all to learn its ways. If I had a view, at all, this might be it.