By Khabira Candace Holt
In August I moved from my home of 26 years above the Kootenay River, and between the time of deep snow until early July I had seven outdoor fires burning artwork, books, wooden things, etc., as part of my honoring and letting go of this place so cherished.
Seven Fires at Avalanche Ridge
Today, the seventh fire of letting-go,
In my life this will have been
home the most years
Smoke rises from the fire pit
I lean against a big cedar;
Her bark fits exactly to my spine
there is no separation--
No me and tree--just one vibration
I carry with me the pink-orange
Autumn sunrises over the river,
The water reflecting Venus and the moon
at the same time
The calls of all the birds—of one
loon on the river in spring; sunlight
through the osprey wings as I look up
from the kayak; the splendid varied
blues of heron feathers
And the mergansers with ducklings on
their backs, steller's jays
and grouse out the window,
Two bear cubs happily wrestling on the lawn;
l carry the morning sun on snow
And its quiet—the comfort of the wood stove
My amazement when morning brought
a herd of elk moving fast uphill
through the yard;
And too the gentle deer, hungry bears
That sometimes surprise--and once
A badger running in snow;
In my heart I hold the light
of a full moon shining on the river
in ripples--the scent of yarrow,
welcome taste of saskatoon berries,
the insistent speech of ravens;
And the mamma bear and two cubs
All up in fragile branches of the
plum tree; the scent and delicacy
of dogbane and dogwood blossoms;
I'll taste and smell the mint, be friends
With the mergansers, see the beavers
swimming; I'll see me playing bouzouki
Tears streaming down my face, when
Far away my mother lay dying;
And the tall, tall trees and how they've
Sheltered me; after the seventh fire
Comes lightening, more lightening,
Loud pounding thunder, then rain,
more lightening and finally
as if to echo the pertinence of my
release—one body-tearing bolt of thunder
That rattles the windows, marking this day;
Now all calm—a perky skunk dances
summersaults through the yard.
Candace Holt July 3rd, 2022