Small rememberings of Santorini this afternoon—
The donkey ride to navigate the steep incline.
Walking up and down the small stairs and tight alleyways.
Buying ceramics, coffee, and souvlaki.
A camera heavy around my neck.
~Pretty Thunder
Poetry
Cool Water Tonight
It’s after midnight here. I just turned on the water to wash my hands and it’s ice cold. I bent down and drank from the pipe and am so grateful. Images pass through my mind of times water was so scarce. Toting water deep in the bush in Wassembo. There was a narrow dirt path in the village. One had to carry a Bamboo pole about 12 to 15 feet long, with a bucket at the end of it. Once at the water source, you had to put it down the hole, catch water and bring it back up. Then walk back to the village.
~Pretty Thunder
The House has Chocolate and Coffee
The house has chocolate and coffee. In the refrigerator there’s sausage and cheese. Tomatoes and pears are ripening on the kitchen counter. I never forget how blessed some of us are. Washing our hands under warm water that comes from a pipe.
Happy New Year
May each and everyone one of you be blessed beyond measure. May you see and experience joy in all you do and if joy eludes you in hard times, may peace and calm enfold you with the knowledge that challenging times always change and you will live and you will still be able to dream and celebrate all the veriditas of the worlds. May you walk out of history you no longer want or need. May you draw boundaries effortlessly when you have to. May love find you no matter your current state of being. You, are stars and cool water and always have been. You are pure magic if you want to be. You are myth and what weaves myth. May the winds of change be gentle. All is well, all is well, all is well. Hekua hey Iya mi! Heykua hey Iyansan
Love, Jolaoso Prettythunder
12AM
screams like an animal Is animal
strange being wrapped in the fur of a lynx belly Face painted with camwood powder and charcoal
she climbs the walls while you all sleep and feeds her orchids ice cubes
this all means nothing This all means everything
she is eating raw bison and sips a demitasse of white rum Talks to her beloved through a day moon
there is no grace here
where a lover can be seen in the black arc of a swallow’s feather
3AM
you lover
i see you on the moonglade
you lover On my tongue
you are my languages
i cuss and praise you equally You dissolve as clouds at daybreak tomorrow
you arrive as rain over Nea Bay
