By Brenda Valiaho, RCAT, DVATI, MEd, CCC
Regina, SK

A Call Back

The wind knocks me out of place,
Through the door into another life.
A living space of vast design,
Free to live while learning how to fail.
A place of distant ancestors, their call ever present.
“You have to go out there and, then go beyond,” they say.

Time, like soldiers in the shadows, is both ominous and relative.
Battle dust feels like velvet on my fingers.
The hour clock whispers in a language
Centred on movement and shape shifting.
“Embed yourself in the countryside
Ride the steed of emotional shatter.”

Ideas can be tracked by markings and imprinted footfalls,
Beckoning me to wildflower meadows.
“Enter the extreme, you know how to do it.
Take things as they are, use all that is.
As it is, beautifully done.”

Hard won, a map appears, fantastic places to see, to enjoy!

This tour makes the most of what is genuine and visibly clear.
Jump the crossroads. Find places where walls are removed.
Step into an overflowing wealth of open spaces.
And then slip back into the caves, the archives.
Dislodge the gems from hidden cracks.

Universal currents in a boundless cosmos spin and weave,
Charged with patterns yet unknown.
Strong and weak forces melt into new, clear energy.
Where electromagnetism, gravity, and transformation
Are at play.

I approach the shifts and the drifts.
Follow the sounds and vibrations of the Wild.
It winks, a compassionate invitation.
We commune as orphans at a feast,
Claimed and cherished.
Fed by this secret victory.

Amorphous Abstract Landscapes

Colours shine in the rock faces along the roadside,
Vast escarpments of crags and shimmering shadows,
Crevices that point to power and mystery.
These are places with secrets and moving histories.
The rock walls are references of time and erosion,
Like a traveler’s journal–a record of belonging and longing forever more.

This land ages, gives birth, and dies
And, then, reclaims through storms along sightlines
And into abstract spaces fallowing evolving figurines.
My human need to adapt is like a collar with a lead.

And, I wonder–
How do we manage temperature changes?
How do we navigate winter roads in an early melt?
How do we quench thirst in drying waters?
How do we find nourishment in this contaminated ground?

In the politics of space and air, I discover images
Of semi-transparent pictures whole along the edges.
My witnessing of nature’s art, puzzle pieces, samples to be mined,
And, in processing their wisdom,
I find touchstones across these landscapes.

The light hangs on each leaf, each stone, and every dew drop,
Reflecting and creating an ever-evolving composition.
Sometimes the light is burned into the colours, fused
Painted mysteries reveal pathways, and reflections.
Melding together a vision of why I am here
And, how to hold my own story.

Nature’s silver luminosity polishes my hope,
And, an audible song accompanies my yearnings.
I see my prayers echoed in the darkest shadows,
In too-bright colours, and in overlapping textures.

I have made a decision to walk this hard road
Carry on through the night until the morning.
Continue to shape the narrative of this body
In the context of these landscapes,
Embraced by interconnectedness.
Stillness and echo weave my way
When I, myself, tire.