Cairns

Creek cairns

Cairns   

I come to the woods today
to thank Her for Her changes,
for Her chlorophyll, green, green, green,
still with us even now that Summer is past.
I look up into the treetops, and still!
the sun comes through, green, green,
She not willing to let go yet of summer’s bounty.

A tree fallen recently in the bubbling creek
creates a wondrous cavity where the creek speaks,
deep, dark bass notes, grounding me
within the rush of white water.
I move along, and notice now,
the creek has arisen so high,
new roots are exposed, my path more narrow,
the water carrying away old silt and mud
that had endured there long and long.

I glance up then, and “Oh!”
escapes my mouth, beyond my will,
for there upon the ancient boulder,
the creek singing all around,
some being has come to build cairns. Sixteen!
The newness! The heart-singing surprise!
I welcome the change- Change, come!
I’m ready.

Annelinde Metzner
Elizabeth’s Path
September 26, 2013


Cairns have been built everywhere in the world as markers for pilgrims, or to say, "be aware!"  Read more here.

Experience some of the artistry of nature works by Andy Goldsworthy of Scotland.

 

This Most Huge Yes

Elsie in her hat

This Most Huge Yes

I must have been four years old, out for an armload of wildflowers
-daisies, mallow flowers, phlox.
Elsie and I sat on a rock  to rest in the shade of the gnarled apple tree.
“Oh World, I cannot hold thee close enough!” cried Elsie, my Tante,
and on and on, poems by memory,
astounding my young ears with the bigness, the width of life beyond my ken.
Dickenson, Heine, Goethe, Millay,
-all fair game to Elsie’s keen mind and deep delight.
What is the world? She answered for me,
just a hint of what was to come, what could be, beyond the now.
I gazed at her above me,
and walked home with her, my arms full of flowers,
my little hand in hers.
And now, many years have passed.
My Tante is ninety-seven, but still, poems sprout from her lips,
and she, with her searching mind, evokes them from me as well.
“Prithee, let no bird call!”
We happen into a field, wild with flowers,
daisies, phlox, a wild quilt of color.
Thrice we return, picking armloads of wildflowers,
holding, holding, ever loving this life, unwilling to let go.
This divine charge we accepted so long ago
just to love this, just to live this,
eyes wide as daisy petals, enveloped in earthly scents,
knee-deep in colors,
just this most huge Yes.

Annelinde Metzner
Wildacres
May 2011



I have been so blessed to be influenced by my aunt, Elsie Horton, for most of my life.   She first introduced me to poetry while on our walks in nature, when I was very young.  On September 25, 2013, Tante Elsie will celebrate her one hundredth birthday.   She is still having a powerful influence on all those who know her.

     The poem, "This Most Huge Yes," is the title of my latest chapbook of 25 poems, which can be purchased with Paypal by clicking the "Buy" tab at the top of this page.

Elsie reciting poetry by my parent's grave, at age 99.  Photo by Susa Silvermarie.

Elsie cooking at home

Canada Geese

Canada Geese

Canada Geese  
                                              
I ride through my little town, early,
the new-morn sun peeping at me between the houses,
the breathless joy of a new day.
A new day!    And what’s this?
A car slows and stops on the hill up ahead.
Canada Geese!
They have returned from their wild wanderings
to our little lake, right here,
on their way far, far to the south.
The Canada Geese, proud, distinguished,
grey, white and black in their formal attire,
move slowly across the street.
They.......move.........slow.......-ly,
ever dignified, never rushed,
on their own time
going ‘round the world.
We wait, astounded, 
on this new day,
in my little town, 
as the flock of Canada Geese,
the beauty of this world, 
quacking and wobbling,
crosses our path.
The other driver and I pass each other slowly,
bowing, smiling inwardly,
giving thanks.

Annelinde Metzner
Black Mountain
September 9, 2013

Legacy

Fukushima nuclear plant burning after tsunami and earthquake in 2011

Legacy      

I clutch at my eyes when I think of you, nuke.
I remember your soft hum and icy aura
and I always think “We’ve gone too far....”

I cannot grasp it.
How can it be
that you could one day melt at your core
and somehow could melt down the core of me
and my baby one day could arrive
with no legs or no eyes....

Will there be schoolchildren one day,
in a thousand years, maybe?
They will visit our monument.
“Here we guard the plutonium.”

Before now, they left to us
Stonehenge and harpsichords,
aqueducts, bibles,
but we are leaving an unspeakable poison,
almost eternal,
a ceaseless worry visited on all yet-to-be-born.

I clutch at my eyes when I think of you, nuke.
My heart twists in pain.
Shamefully, inwardly, I beg,
“oh my sweet Earth,
my Mother,
I’m sorry,
so sorry.”

Annelinde Metzner
December 1980

Nomura family, near Fukushima nuclear plant in Japan. (Eric Rechsteiner)

READ MORE about the current conditions in Japan after the Fukushima meltdown.

It is almost two years since the colossal earthquake and tsunami in northeastern Japan that killed 20,000 people and caused the world's worst nuclear disaster in 25 years. The Nomuras' home city of Koriyama, an inland commercial hub with 337,000 people and shimmering views of nearby mountains, was spared the tsunami's monstrous waves. But it could not escape the clouds of radioactive particles that spread widely, following multiple explosions at the Daiichi plant. The total amount of radiation released into the air was (depending on who funded the estimate) between 18 and 40% of the quantity released during Chernobyl in 1986 – and over an area of Japan with a population density 10 times greater. In the aftermath, radiation levels in Koriyama spiked at 30 to 40 times higher than legal limits, contaminating the city with caesium and other long-life radionuclides for decades to come.                           
                                  Guardian/Observer, February 23, 2013

The purple decree

Naomi and Ruth

The purple decree

“Do not press me to leave you or to turn back from following you! Where you go, I will go; where you lodge I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die, I will die — there will I be buried. May the Lord do thus and so to me, and more as well, if even death parts me from you!” 
(Ruth to Naomi, The Book of Ruth 1:16-17)
 
Long years my cousin followed her church,
a true Christian, simple and clear.
Love one another.  Care for the poor.
Heap not up treasures upon this Earth.
Never one to be silent, she posed her good question:
“I am not black, but I marched for civil rights.
I am not a soldier, but I marched to bring them home.
I'm just an old white-haired woman.
Who am I to say that any human love is wrong?”
My cousin asked her questions in Sunday school.
She was asked to refrain.
Then came the purple decree.
In each parishioner’s mailbox, the purple paper
stating homosexuality is a sin.
My cousin gazed unblinking, 
steadfast, as her spiritual home,
her bedrock of belief and support,
fell away from her true center, her Self.
“I quit my church on Friday,” she messaged to me.
“This is NOT MY GOD!”
Now my cousin’s days are lavished
on the church of God’s nature,
days spent with the water, the trees,
the quiet of her thoughts and prayers,
in the places where Love lives.


“Whither thou goest I shall go.” 
(Ruth declaring her love for Naomi, The Book of Ruth 1:16-17) 



Annelinde Metzner
August 30, 2013



The above quote from the Old Testament is from the Book of Ruth, the story of two women, Ruth and Naomi, and their undying love for each other.  In the passage, "Ruth clung to Naomi," (chapter 1 verse 14,) the Hebrew word for "clung to" is the same as the verb describing the feelings of Adam for Eve.   Many couples married in Christian churches have used the above verses, Ruth's declaration of love for Naomi, in their wedding ceremonies.

Naomi and Ruth

Naomi and Ruth

My cousin Mardy

Retreat at Owl's Nest

Owl's Nest

Retreat at Owl’s Nest   
                                   
Sleeping in the forest, I remember:
    how urgently each of these trees grew,
    poplar, maple, oak, green with new life,
    whose trunks now lay patiently
    one upon another
    to make my cabin here.
Sleeping in the forest.

In the grey mist of the morning rain,
    as droplets fall from leaf to leaf
    tapping ratamacues on the long eaves
    of the galvanized roof,
    I feel the power of Black Dome, not far away,
    pulsing energy and strength to us
    throughout the day.
In the grey mist.

As I settle into this cabin,
    silence cradling me like a welcoming shawl,
    silence down the steep grade
    and up onto the ridge,
    silence, the true balm, singing Her healing song;
    the pen comes to my hand, and is welcomed there,
    the impetus springing clear and true from my heart,
and I write.



Annelinde Metzner
Wildacres Retreat
August 6, 2013 


 
Many thanks to Wildacres Conference Center, where I was awarded a week-long artist's retreat to write poetry and compose music.  

  

Morning mist

   

Stone path at Wildacres

Piano where I composed music

Shout!

One of 900 North Carolinians arrested at Moral Mondays in Raleigh

North Carolina, my home of twenty-six years,
exquisite land of magic mountains,
birthplace of openmindedness and love.
Our government is hurting us now.
What will our people do?

Five hundred thousand will go untreated,
without medical care that could have been free.
Those in Raleigh who represent us
thumb their noses at all things Obama.
They reject Federal money for unemployment
so two hundred thousand jobless people will be cut.
What will our people do?

Teachers here in my home state, paid so very low,
are leaving, they are leaving,
or teach in classrooms so crowded,
no learning occurs at all.
What will our people do?

Health clinics are shut down.
Women, juggling too much, too much
to allow another child to be born,
will resort to the back alleys once more.

And our vote! Our right to vote!
Shorten the voting days, multiply the hoops,
allow voting lines to go around the block,
so that one after another, the people of color,
the students, the disenfranchised, the elderly
give up on the vote, their sacred vote,
give up on Democracy and just go home,
as hoped-for in Raleigh, as if following the plan.
What will our people do?

Our government is hurting us now,
killing us really,
and we must not be quiet!
No, do not be quiet!
Shout! Shout! Shout!



Annelinde Metzner
August 2, 2013


Read more about the heartless actions of the NC state government, which will have long-reaching effects on all North Carolinians, but especially the weakest, neediest members of the population.

North Carolinians are reeling from a wide-reaching onslaught of legislation by a state government newly created by ultra right-wing funding of small local elections.
 
The North Carolina NAACP has initiated "Moral Mondays" in Raleigh, which has inspired the largest protest rallies in the nation this year.   Nine hundred brave souls volunteered to undergo arrest for "trespassing" at our State Capitol. 

The movement has expanded from Raleigh to the mountains, where Moral Monday will occur in Asheville,  NC on August 5th at 5 PM in front of the city hall.

Woman arrested in Raleigh at Moral Mondays

Woman arrested in Raleigh at Moral Mondays

Reverend Barber, president of the NC NAACP,  at the NC Capitol Rotunda

Crowd at Moral Mondays

Women for health care in NC

Sign at Moral Mondays

Magdala, Tower

Mary Magdalene by Brother Robert Lentz

Magdala, Tower, queen of my days,

You are not Spirit, not Ether, not Will ‘o the Wisp.

but flesh and blood, a woman like me,

and my teacher.

I see You in burgundy-red, the Blood-Root flower,

the Wake Robin, deep red trillium of the mountains,

the royally curled and woody flower of the Spicebush.

You are so real.

And when You walk on Earth,

the steps of Your beautiful feet are firm.

Priestess, daughter of Isis,

Well-trained in lore and wise,

how I crave the touch of Your oil upon my face.

MM is here!  Mary Magdalene,

here for Her own millennium,

and the voice You bring has no shame in who You are,

who we all are, Woman, strong, deep,

burgundy-red and sexual.

You walk in the power of the Sacred Night,

here to walk wherever You must,

through Love, through Transformation,

unto Union with the Divine.

With Your powerful arms

and Your dark-red hair glinting like amber,

You guide us all through these darkest of days.

Mary Magdalene, You stand grounded

even as we hang in torment,

with Your strong and womanly Priestess arms

ready to carry us through.

Annelinde Metzner

April 17, 2012

Mary Magdalene by El Greco

Mary Magdalene by Carlo Dolci

  

Medieval Mary Magdalene

Mary Magdalene by Carravaggio

Mary and Jesus stained glass in Scotland

Malala's Birthday Speech

Malala’s Birthday Speech

“In the name of God, the most beneficent, the most merciful...”
          Malala Yousafzai in her birthday address to the UN Youth Assembly, July 9, 2013
 
A pink lacy shawl frames her dark hair and determined face.   She is sixteen!
Confident and convivial, she commands the podium in front of the world’s leaders.
Sixteen!   Malala has survived a gunshot at close range,
on her schoolbus in Pakistan,
a target of the Taliban for speaking her strong mind.
She has survived!

“Respected elders, and my dear brothers and sisters,  Salaam Aleichem.”
 
She fingers her delicate shawl, bequeathed from Benazir Bhutto,
one woman to another, a gift of strength from across time and beyond the veil.

“This time, we women will do it for ourselves.
Thank you to God, for whom we are all equal!
I speak so that those without voice can be heard.”
 
Her mother wipes away tears.
Men in suits stare, making space in their consciousness for Malala,
for this empowered young woman who has enraptured the world.

“Weakness, fear and hopelessness died.
Strength, fervor and courage were born.”
 
The room breaks out in emotion-filled applause.
Imbued with ahimsa, forgiveness and non-violence,
her strength uplifts us all.





Annelinde Metzner
July 18, 2013



Listen and watch as Malala gives her Birthday speech to the UN Youth Assembly.

 

The elders act

Arrested at Moral Monday

Arrested at Moral Monday

Arrested at Moral Monday

NC Citizens amass on the State Capitol lawn

The elders act

She chose the long walk, at age 92,
to the State House in Raleigh to be arrested there.
“Because I’m tired of all this goin’ on,”
she exclaimed, with a pointed look and a twist of her head,
a middle-aged son trailing her walker behind her.
On to the NC State House, where each district
has been bought and paid for by the fat cats
and the masters of greed
who fear for all they have.
Big money paved the way
for tiny town after tiny town in North Carolina
to fall to the one with the millions, the self-appointed Pope,
and our liberal enclaves were horribly gerimandered.
And so, Moral Mondays, where people like us
go to Raleigh at last, to make our voices heard.
The 84-year-old from here in the mountains,
also tired, and valiantly walking:
“I’m here for my conscience, my community and my children.”
In a few short years, this bunch, scared and rich,
has legislated cuts to earned income credit,
Medicaid and unemployment;
cut Pre-K programs, lowered taxes for the rich,
and suppressed voting in every way imaginable.
Following Dr. King and Gandhi, 17 ministers and rabbis heard the call.
The number is now in the thousands, every Monday,
Moral Monday, to bring us back to our senses.

“Do what's right by the poor, do what's right by the sick, do what's right by women, and do what's right by workers,”  says Reverend Barber, the first to meet on that lawn.

When the elders act, beware.



Annelinde Metzner
June 26, 2013






Read and see videos about North Carolina's Moral Mondays at The Nation.


See a report about Mountain protestors traveling to Raleigh. 

Ministers pray at Moral Monday

A NC protestor being arrested

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