a photograph by Sonja Bingen, our daughter
Zuni Mountains
Filed under Art, Photography
47. Living Inside Chaos
a passage from The Dragon Epic by Thomas Davis
1
The dire wolf woke Ruarther from his daze.
A male as large as any that he’d seen,
Eyes red, fur ragged, black as moonless nights,
Snarled, bold, into the opening between
The stone fence where Ruarther stood and woods.
It saw Ruarther, crouched in hunting stance,
And stared at him, its baleful eyes twin cauldrons
That bubbled hatred, blind ferocity.
Ruarther jumped down from the wall and grabbed
The bow from Cragdon’s lifeless hands and sent
An arrow at the wolf in one smooth motion.
The wolf, wise to the wiles of men, moved sideways,
The arrow burying into a tree.
Ruarther pulled the bow again and aimed
At where he thought the wolf would move to dodge
His arrow’s flight; the wolf howled; other wolves
Began to come out of the forest trees.
The wolf dodged sideways once again, but true
To how Ruarther’s aim had been, the arrow
Imbedded sharpened stone in flesh; the wolf,
Now maddened, blindly charged toward Ruarther.
Ruarther sent another arrow deep
Into the charging wolf’s dark heart; it fell
As other wolves howled rage that shivered
Into the roiling clouds behind their movement.
The chaos sang with noises not of earth.
A coldness colder than the fiercest storm
Rolled to the wall and poured into the village.
The howling voices of the wolves were silenced.
Ruarther heard the spirit bear, who’d tried
To occupy his body, in the cold.
It sniffed at him, then sniffed at Cragdon’s body,
Then turned toward the village as a dark
That was no dark descended on the world.
2
Above the battle Wei kept circling
As humans sent their flaming arrows splashing
Across hard dragon scales and dragons fought
With dragons as the village cottages
Caught fire and filled the air with smoke and flames.
She felt the chant Ruanne was singing deep
Inside her spirit, the song so powerful
It seemed to alter how time’s arrow moved
Across the day toward night’s distant rising.
Each time she wheeled to keep herself aloft,
She saw the clouds of chaos moving like
An anvil, dense as molten iron, toward
The village, humans, dragons, and the war.
She felt her mother’s and her father’s songs
Inside the chaos, felt her mother buried
Inside her human dragon triple hearts.
Extinction swirled inside the freezing clouds.
Wei felt the message from her mother’s singing.
A dragon flying through the air, she longed
To feel her mother’s loving human touch
Upon her cheek before her mother tucked
Her gently into bed, the long day done–
But she had lost her childhood when her hands
Had woven dragon flesh around her spirit
And made her more than what she should have been.
At last, the boiling clouds intense with cold
Near village walls, she joined Ruanne’s strong chant
And started changing it away from dragons
That spewed their fire toward her slender body
Toward the chaos threatening the lives
Of every creature, every tree, on earth.
The surge of power as she linked her voice
To Ruanne’s voice was startling; she flew
Toward the anvil-looking clouds and reached to find
Her mother’s and her father’s voice in chaos,
Their struggle as they tried to make an order
Inside a universe that knew no order.
Her mind was buffeted by winds so strong
And cold they numbed her sense of who she was
And almost knocked her from the skies she flew.
Her scales seemed like they would dissolve in cold
And flow into the winds that were no winds,
Her spirit part of nothingness that hurled
Its nothingness around for all eternity.
How could she live inside the nothingness?
The stream of chanting from Ruanne dissolved
Into a song so small she hardly knew
That it still tied her to the world beyond
The gray that sucked at her and tried to meld
Her spirit with the fleeting hints of life
That flowed and merged into the whirlpool-flow
That mocked the order that her parents sought.
Deep in her self, beyond the human dragon
That she had made, she reached toward a song
Beyond her individuality.
She tried to find the hearts of who she was
Beyond the being that she was, the truth
Of how life’s impulse strained against the chaos
Imbedded in existence, making possible
The beauty and the substance of the world.
3
Ruarther faced the cloud and cold and felt
The raging storm of nothingness unman
Him from the human man that he’d become.
He did not flinch, but reached into the place
That let him throw the surging spirit bear
Away from who he was and meld his essence
Into the spirit of the self he was.
The chaos storm’s noise roared into his flesh
And numbed the beating of his human heart.
The cold bit down into his will and sucked
Determination from the spirit that he was.
He turned toward the village, feeling nothing
Inside the dark that raged around his body,
And tried to feel his way toward Ruanne.
She had to be alive. His love for her,
Denied so often in his stupid pride,
Was strong enough to will that she still lived.
To listen to this passage click on
Note: This is the forty seventh passage of a long narrative poem, which has grown into The Dragon Epic. Originally inspired by John Keats’ long narrative poem, Lamia, it tells a story set in ancient times when dragons and humans were at peace. Click on the numbers below to reach other sections, or go to the Categories box to the right under The Dragon Epic. Click on Dragonflies, Dragons and Her Mother’s Death to go to the beginning and read forward. Go to Retreat to read the passage before this one.
Filed under Poetry, The Dragon Epic, Thomas Davis
Youth
Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis
The Healing Journey
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
At dusk I found myself hurrying through the glacial forest.
The air was warm and humid, but the clay dust cool on my feet.
I was climbing the high trail to the foot bridge
that crossed the black granite waters.
The daylight was fading.
The moss-covered boulders looked like giants strewn
by some ancient glacier eons ago.
As the cold air rose around my legs,
multi-colored shells of snails criss-crossed the large tree trunks.
Water trickled down everywhere–through the moss carpet
thick with the red mushroom.
I had come here before, hoping to resolve a riddle,
but now I had a disease within my body and needed help.
Finally I reached the bridge, black and strong,
made with spaces between the floor planks wide enough
to see the great height at which I was.
The black river below looked like a black granite ribbon
glistening in the dim light.
Across the bridge I could see a clearing through the trees.
In the clearing was a large crowd of people.
Their faces were as warm as their hands.
Nightingale whispered:
These are people that have helped you
in some way throughout your life.
As I went back across the bridge
the moon was beginning to shine on the water,
but within me
I felt as if the sun was beginning to rise.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
The Rhyming of Love
a love poem to Ethel by Thomas Davis
Our fathers died, and then your mother left
And took a train ride to her resting place.
There are no words for senses left bereft
The moment living left our son’s kind face.
Our love was glory when it first began to bloom.
We walked brown hills and felt the sky breathe light—
You took your hesitant, unlikely groom
And gave him more of life than was his right.
The days of work and turmoil, gladness, stress,
Have slowed us down and made us feel our years
As separateness has ground against the press
Of love through joyous days and bitter tears.
From gnarling roots of memories and time,
Love forges symphonies of changing rhyme.
Filed under Poetry, Thomas Davis
Cottontail
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Crazy cottontail,
spinning in the desert,
running in circles
in snow
mixed with rain.
Must be happy,
back and forth.
Greening
of the world
means
eating again.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
Snow on Cedars
First the first bees of spring collecting nectar from the grape hyacinth that are blooming, then…
photograph by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Filed under Art, Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography
46. Retreat
a passage from The Dragon Epic by Thomas Davis
1
The great black dragon’s hurtling unnerved
Ruanne, but, even though she felt like leaping
From roof to ground and hiding with the children
Beneath the floors of cottages in dark,
She pulled her bow and sent a flaming arrow
Into the dragon’s scales and saw him flinch
Back from the flame, his searing breath-flame missing
Where he had aimed at her, his claws a shrilling
Across the roof as wings fought hard to take
Him back into the air away from where she kneeled.
Inside her mind she chanted words that seemed
As if they’d come from someone else and sang
As if her chanting had a power far
Beyond the power that she knew she had.
She felt triumphant for a moment, seeing
The dragon swerve away from flames that spread
Out from the arrow’s mark across its belly,
But then he turned and aimed his massive body
At where she pulled upon her bow’s taut string
And hurtled at her smallness as she threw
Herself away from where he’d aimed, her arrow
Another flame into his hardened scales.
The dragon roared as Ruanne rolled across
The roof and tried to keep from plummeting
To ground, her eyes filled with a sky of dragons
So huge with searing flame and massive claws
The world seemed mad with frightened screams and roars
That shook the ground and made her feel half deaf.
“Undo the chaos of the universe,”
She sang. “Cleanse winds that are no winds.
Undo the chaos; stir the winds; make
The world anew, chaotic rage undone.
Undo the chaos of the universe.”
She did not stop the chanting in her mind
In spite of all the bruising that she felt
While desperately attempting to arrest
Her rolling on the hard slates on the roof.
She did not stop while hanging from the edge
Above the ground, her arms afire with pain.
She dropped to earth and rolled to ease the fall.
Her voice wrapped dragon roars and human screams
Into the chant she sang and tried to end
The fury overwhelming what the village
Had once been slumbering inside it peace.
She was no witch, she told herself, and still
She chanted witching words and reached for power
She’d never wanted, always shunned and fled.
2
Sshruunak felt Mmirrimann before he saw
The dragon horde above the village walls.
He threw himself toward the chanting witch,
Then turned as Mmirrimann came roaring down,
His claws extended as he tried to pierce
Shruunak’s black scales and end the village war.
Shruunak avoided Mmirrimann and tried
To understand the madness boiling skies
Alive with dragons fighting dragons, flame
And claws enraptured by the constant roar
And screams that made the universe unreal.
He’d never dreamed that Mmirrimann would lead
The caves to war against their sons and daughters.
His calculations had been wrong so often
That, even caught by rage, he knew his judgment
Was flawed so badly that he could not trust
The thoughts or feeling that were driving him.
He saw the human witch drop to the ground,
But then Ssruanne was diving at his wings.
He twisted as another flaming arrow
Unnaturally burned through his dense black scales.
He’d have to run. His followers would have
To fly toward the mountains where their lairs
Could not be found without a dogged search.
He roared, his pain so great it echoed like
A writhing snake into the village skies.
He started climbing, pumping wings in spite
Of how the flames upon his belly spread,
But then began to hover as he saw
The weirding clouds beyond the village wall
And dire wolves gleaming in unnatural light.
He saw the ending of the world of dragons
Foretold by Mmirrimann, despair so great
Escape was, like his life, like dragonkind,
A fantasy impossible to seize.
Fear clawed into his double hearts and made
Them beat arhythmically, the chaos singing
Inside the roiling clouds so powerfully
It overwhelmed his sense of who he was.
“Retreat!” he shrilled. “Retreat and fly away!”
His followers, disorganized and fearful,
Too many injured from the human’s arrows,
Began, as one, to climb above the battle
They’d started following Sshruunak’s black rage.
The fear Sshruunak had broadcast shocked their wings
Into a frantic flight toward the clouds
That boiled toward the village, whirling doom,
An ending, of the world that once had been.
To listen to this passage click on Retreat
Note: This is the forty sixth passage of a long narrative poem, which has grown into The Dragon Epic. Originally inspired by John Keats’ long narrative poem, Lamia, it tells a story set in ancient times when dragons and humans were at peace. Click on the numbers below to reach other sections, or go to the Categories box to the right under The Dragon Epic. Click on Dragonflies, Dragons and Her Mother’s Death to go to the beginning and read forward. Go to Before the End of the World to read the passage before this one. To read the next passage in the epic, click on Living Inside Chaos.
Filed under Poetry, The Dragon Epic, Thomas Davis, Uncategorized




