by Prana Joy Mandoe
dream this dell of trees in earth and air
spirit slip among the light orange leaves
rustle now in quiet sunlit prayer
around this room upon the valley’s lip
where I pause to rest and eat, transceive
this spiral basket awaiting her next layer
my body’s cleansed within this bower
bare feet lead down a steep dirt trail and in
to grandma’s blue-sky amphitheater
oh timeless crone shake out your lap
bust stalks of seed sow forests in the breeze
wild goddess cast us trees and earth and air
now swell and split, now germinate, now sprout
for growth unfurls as simply as we breathe
protected in the dappled sanctum here
my orange roots feed what’s at the depth
the rare leaf patterns a soul may yet conceive
oh plait brown fibers of the earth’s own hair
weave peace within this valley’s sunlit heir
Prana Joy Mandoe speaks English, Danish, and Hawaiian; she kneads the cultures together in her writing and home. She holds a degree in Hawaiian Studies, teaches eighth grade U.S. History, and writes poetry and nonfiction when her family sleeps. Recent publications include “the quiet of the land” in Buddhist Poetry Review and “The Opening” in Bamboo Ridge Journal of Hawaiʻi Literature and Arts.
