By TERRY WOOTEN
Remember the Face in the Moon? People used to be able to see it. When I was a little boy I remember playing hide-and-seek one summer night with my older cousins in town. It must have been a full moon. I looked up and she was looking down at me. Where I was hiding was our secret. The rest of the game doesn't matter, except for that sacred moment.
Fourteen years later in 1969, when the first astronauts stood on the moon and photographed the earth, I think something changed in the cells of our minds. Like art, it affected many people in a very subtle but powerful way. That change is still happening. The first official Earth Day happened in April 1970.
Now we have even more powerful photographs of us from billions of miles away. They show a tiny blue pixel of light floating in vast darkness. On that blue dot is where life (as we know it); wildlife, civilizations, philosophies, religions, wars and art have thrived or disappeared.
Every poem I've ever written or said has changed me a little bit, like those photographs. Art makes the world more alive. I try to pass this awareness on in poetry workshops with kids. In addition to poetry giving elders a voice, art can also speak for all the critters who are not represented very well in our egocentric cosmology.
The sad poem about Joani Braun's "Road Art" is an example. Floyd Webster's story touches on a time when roads wove more gently through the landscape. Have a good Earth Day, and remember April is Poetry Month. Check out the new Dunes Review to celebrate, or be nice to a poet before the end of the month.
Joani Braun was interviewed by Jamie Nichol and Millis Gronoff from Elk Rapids High School. I interviewed Floyd.
Joani Braun (77)
Road Art
I tend to see the other side of things.
I take meanings differently.
In 2003 I was driving along
looking out at the bay
thinking, "What a wonderful place to live."
Oh, my gosh,
all of a sudden ...
my vision started.
I stopped to pick up
this beautiful red-winged blackbird
that had crashed into a car.
I thought, "This is incredible."
I took the dead bird home
to draw and paint,
and bury.
I drive along looking at the side of the road.
When I see an animal killed by a car,
I stop and do a sketch.
If the animal isn't too heavy
I bring it home and paint its picture.
I have quite a collection
of these framed watercolors.
My children go, "Mom, why
are you painting all that blood and guts?"
I hope
people are beginning to look
and think maybe
we should be slowing down.
Maybe what I have to do yet
in Art and life,
is honor these animals,
to make us more aware
of beings living here with us...
that were here before us.
-- Terry Wooten
Floyd Webster (90)
Many Years Ago
There was no road,
just a path
around Arbutus Lake into Kingsley.
The Indians used to come down that path
till they'd almost get to what we call 113.
It was woods.
They'd cut across southwest,
up the next hill
to visit Mrs. Stinson.
It's called Hency Road today.
Mrs. Stinson gave 'em hot biscuits and honey.
The Indians thought the world of Mrs. Stinson.
They would pick flowers for her,
get baskets
and pick wild blackberries and raspberries
and take 'em to Mrs. Stinson
so she could make pies.
She'd give them a pie to take
back to their camp.
The Indians moved back over on
what we call River Road.
Halfway down River Road
you come to a bridge.
On your right you see some hills.
Some mounds are up in there.
Now a little house
is at the foot of those hills.
I drove past there the other day
and thought, "Well,
usually on Indian mounds
you don't build houses.
Many years ago
somebody bought up the land ...
they took it or something.
-- Terry Wooten
Poet Bard Terry Wooten has been performing and conducting writing workshops in schools for 27 years. He is the creator of Stone Circle. Learn more about him at www.terry-wooten.com.
