NEW MEXICO ART RETREAT

My friend and artist Tammy Pruitt and I spent almost a week in Northern New Mexico to gain inspiration and create art. We were not disappointed. Everywhere we turned creation abounded and art surrounded. We stayed in a log cabin at 9,000 ft. above sea level near Red River, New Mexico. Some days we stayed holed up in the cabin and other days we ventured into area towns like Arroyo Seco, Taos, Chimayo, and Santa Fe. We concluded our journey by driving south to Hondo, between Ruidoso and Roswell, to visit another artist named Alice Warder Seeley. Between the two of us we took thousands of photos and rejoiced at the antics of the hummingbirds that quickly accepted our presence. The trip was everything I'd hoped for and more. Now...I must get to the art-making, now that we've returned. Below are four new poems written in response to the experience.

RETREAT

Minutes of talking
Minutes of silence
Minutes of watching
Minutes of waiting…
It’s a relaxed state of mind
that creates a true vacation-
the soul escape all crave,
but few brave.

Atop the mountain retreat
with an amiable friend
the ebb and flow perfected quickly
as kindred spirits seek
and savor the soul food,
God manna,
sent to feed, refresh, and restore.

ASCENTS

It is the quietest of ascents

of light and breeze,

breath and heartbeat

that awakens the soul this day.

From darkness to flame,

to glow, then green—

a whir, a chirp,

a quickened step

as coffee gurgles

and day begins.

From picture windows

quiet perspectives,

the watchful “eyes” of aspen bark,

their leaves shimmering

in flirtatious beckoning.—

A day begun in silent splendor

opens full

to hold me, completely.

 

HEALING AT CHIMAYO

They say the dirt is holy at Chimayo,

the dirt where many feet have trod

to reach and touch God.

But rushing streams that surround and hurry past

have called me to stop and listen—

This healing comes from crystal waters

flowing rapid o’er ancient rock and pebble.

The Voice says, “Stop and listen…

you are cleansed.”

And peace flows in

where pain flows out—

My healing came at Chimayo.

 

MOUNTAINS OF RED RIVER

I thought I saw the mountains of Red River

when waking from a nap,

their image burned strong in my brain—

the grand slope of verdant grey,

a silhouette against my cabin’s morning glass.

Descending to another place,

a land familiar and certainly welcome,

but for a moment

I thought I saw the mountain and confused,

I looked, then realized

they were a thousand miles away

as wistful watching dissolved to home.

Claudia Lowery

June 2010