Klee Wyck
For Emily Carr
The stones that eulogise the lilies
where you thrived
are rough unspeakable seeds.
Bride of the painted field,
sister of sea and sky,
loved by the unloveable,
unloved by the one beloved,
you gave yourself to the Haida,
godtrees carving themselves
out of the burnished ground,
saltburnt faces old
and puckered as the young maize
stripped
from its ancient roots.
Now earth contains you
like a silenced tongue a word.
Yet asleep in a tent of sun and rain
the seasons’ girl is again
the trees’ divine interpreter!
Boldly still your spirit brushes
the changing line
flesh of ocean/
bone of land.
Your eloquent silence stuns
and honours us.
The big blue raven praises you,
Klee Wyck,
O Laughing One!