a photo essay by Sonja Bingen
The winds of early spring sing windy songs
and young boy’s thoughts begin to long
for wings that lift his feet off ground to sky
and let his spirit start to fly.
He starts upon a hill, runs, lets legs stretch
as gentle winds begin to catch
the kite into its dance of buffeting
as paper, string, and tail go soaring
into a place where boys have always run
into the joy of springtime’s sun.
Filed under Art, Photography
a photography by Alazanto, Kevin Davis, our son
Taken November 19, 2009
Filed under Art, Photography
a pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis
Photographs of Spring by Sonja Bingen, our daughter
April
a poem by Ethel Mortenson Davis
April on tossed hair,
in trees,
across the paths and grass
with branches stuck in seas of sky,
comes,
and
nowhere
is the snow
that covered us
and protected us,
but now
green
pushes up,
and
i
hold on
a moment like bark
and hear
a swinging down
out of trees
and
i see
your surprised
face
when
the earth jumps up fast to meet your legs.
Filed under Art, Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography, Poetry
a photograph and poem by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Mudjekeewis:
El Oso de Salud or “the healing bear” is the symbol of the UNM Cancer Center and a Native American totem of power, health and protection. The bear, by the sculptor Gene Tobey, is the animal most closely associated with mudjekeewis, the spirit keeper of the west and source of responsibility, teaching, leadership and healing. It represents the desire to serve New Mexicans whose lives have been touched by cancer with strength, courage, grace and great ability.
Healing Bear
I am the healing bear.
I will lick you
all over
from head to foot.
I will take
the bad smells out
of your fur.
I will bring you
up out of the labyrinth
and will heal you.
I will show you
the face of your child
so small you can
hold it in your hand.
I am the healing bear,
and I will heal you.
Filed under Art, Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography, Poetry
by Thomas Davis
We kissed his forehead, yellow, cold, inert,
sobbed our goodbyes, left his body, drove
to Poet’s Walk above the Hudson, hurt
beyond expression, where, on hills, small groves
of ancient trees are interspersed with fields,
a place where, Kevin said, he liked to go.
And as cremation’s fires consumed, annealed
his spirit to our spirits, as the glow
of July’s sun warmed flesh too numb to feel,
we walked where he had walked and tried to find
our balance in a world turned sad, unreal—
our son was gone, his smile, his wondrous mind.
And as we walked the wings of butterflies,
black mourning cloaks, danced through the summer skies.
At the University of New Mexico Cancer Center in Albuquerque, where I am now being treated once a week, a healing bear greets patients as they enter the building. Marked with ancient symbols, shining black in the sun, Ethel and I stand before it every time we come to the Center. The major question in my mind at the moment, one that I cannot shake, is, why am I surviving my bout with bladder cancer while Kevin, only 28 years old, did not survive? I would have given him my life without a thought if he could still be present, thinking about butterflies that were such a constant, powerful symbol to him from the time he was a child to the day of his death when, as Ethel has written in a powerful poem not yet posted, a butterfly visited his hospital room so many stories up in the middle of the city. I understand there is no answer to such a question, and I am deeply grateful to have more years with Ethel, my children, and grandchildren, but both Ethel and I miss our son. This sonnet was written after our visit to Poet’s Walk Park on the Hudson River in New York. Ethel has also written about our experience there. After this moment we flew back home to New Mexico. Just over a year later we discovered my cancer. One of Ethel’s many photographs of the healing bear is below as a symbol of survival and strength in the face of devastating tribulation.
photograph by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Filed under Art, Essays, Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography, Poetry, Thomas Davis
a photograph by Alazanto, Kevin Davis, our son
November 18, 2007
Filed under Art, Photography
an abstract pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis
