deep time liturgy

at peat bog

they rinsed us from you & we came to
beneath harvest of smoke & our tools

of part memory, part dream & the dead
where they slept beneath our quilts

the peat bog will not forget, so holds
a dropped awl & still-opened hand

of at least one distant ancestor
having never met

dream leaves its memory
on the raw side of hide

& we gathered foxglove
at eventide from hills that bore

its crash, folding fields
to stitch a robe for moons

to outlast where we held the flood
until it remembered us

by settling remains in the moss
of that moor

where only the listening
from here on out is left & now

the feathered chest-dweller
coughs beneath the ribbed rafters

& we wait with low hum of estuarine mud
in our mouths

where round howls
too sharp to keep where

she gathers them
& us

still holding
that flood

by ripple marks in stone
her song remembers

the weight of our collected
bones to whisper back

o water,
where did your flood
last end?

Author: Stacey C. Johnson

I keep watch and listen, mostly in dark places.

12 thoughts on “deep time liturgy”

  1. Beautiful Stacey. Odd how you and I seem to be on the same wavelength at the moment: foxglove, peat, moors and our ancestors. All these bones we have that we return to. Again, beautiful.

    Reply

    1. Thank you, Michael. In a hot week where the sun feels relentless, I find myself longing for the misty moors. And perhaps a slower dominant register. It never ceases to amaze me when I see these serendipitous parallels in your writing. Grateful to be in your excellent company, friend : )

      Reply

      1. As I am grateful for your company and friendship. Thank you 💙

        I could handle a slower register myself, and I am already longing for crisp autumn days. I hope you find some comfort soon.

  2. Catherin J Pascal Dunk – Wordplayer, plantfriend, pond-er, Pythian, parent-y, poly, activist, adult-in-training, adventuress, bling-er, carer, chickenherd, lover, tri, cat perpon
    Catherin J Pascal Dunk says:

    So many great lines in this, wow! My favourite stanza is probably:

    & we wait with low hum of estuarine mud
    in our mouths

    Reply
  3. chrisnelson61 – Stourbridge, UK – Chris Nelson was born in East Anglia, but grew up in Birmingham when his family relocated when he was still a young child. After leaving school he studied computing at what was then Wolverhampton Polytechnic, before deciding that it was not a career path he wanted to follow. He retrained as a teacher and has taught in a primary school in Dudley since the mid 1980's. He has dabbled in writing short stories since his youth, but has began writing more seriously since the turn of the century. He lives in Stourbridge with his wife and two children.
    chrisnelson61 says:

    Great piece, Stacey, a sense of past and present connection.

    Reply
      1. chrisnelson61 – Stourbridge, UK – Chris Nelson was born in East Anglia, but grew up in Birmingham when his family relocated when he was still a young child. After leaving school he studied computing at what was then Wolverhampton Polytechnic, before deciding that it was not a career path he wanted to follow. He retrained as a teacher and has taught in a primary school in Dudley since the mid 1980's. He has dabbled in writing short stories since his youth, but has began writing more seriously since the turn of the century. He lives in Stourbridge with his wife and two children.
        chrisnelson61 says:

        🙂

  4. Writing to Freedom – Fayetteville, Arkansas, USA – Peacemaker, writer, nature lover, and photographer. Learning to be more compassionate, loving, and accepting. I enjoy reading, simple living, travel, and time in nature. See you on the trails of life. Together we rise.
    Writing to Freedom says:

    Very poignant and a bit creepy. 😊

    Reply

    1. Lol, Thank you Brad. Now that you mention it, that’s the vibe I aim for. Going to put this as a quote by my writing desk 😂

      Reply
      1. Writing to Freedom – Fayetteville, Arkansas, USA – Peacemaker, writer, nature lover, and photographer. Learning to be more compassionate, loving, and accepting. I enjoy reading, simple living, travel, and time in nature. See you on the trails of life. Together we rise.
        Writing to Freedom says:

        Darn. I wasn’t trying to inspire more creepy. 😊

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