Tag Archives: healing

Four Windows Press Publishes New Book by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Four Windows Press has published a new chapbook, The Healer, by Ethel Mortenson Davis:


These are powerful poems about healing and the human spirit by an imagistic poet of the first order.  The book can be purchased for $10, via check or through PayPal to paypal.me/fourwindowspress, which covers all postage and handling.  The Galleria Carnaval in El Morro, New Mexico, http://www.galleriacarnaval.com, also has copies at the gallery for sale.  The address for checks is:  Four Windows Press, Ethel Mortenson Davis, 231 N Hudson Ave., Sturgeon Bay, WI  54235.  If you use PayPal please let us know by email, sending us your address, at http://www.davisetheltom@gmail.com.


Filed under Art, Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry

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


by Ethel Mortenson Davis


I was never invited
to the table,
but had to sit outside.

I reached
for another–
whose lap
I crawled on,
whose branches
of trees
out to me
with their arms.


Old Mother,
who heals
with the rushing
waters of spring,
the quiet white
of deep winter snows,
with the smell of leaves
breaking down
in the fall
and the bright moonlight
on warm summer nights,
Old Mother reached out to me.


I was never invited
to the table,
but had to sit outside,

and there
I found another
gathered animal spirits
beside me

on another path
in another world.


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry

Healing Horses

a pastel drawing by Ethel Mortenson Davis for Joey


Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography

All We Have Is Sky

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

In the end
all we have is sky.

He walked in winter
across the mountain
many times,
searching for the plant
dried by winter’s cold
that looks like all the others.

After many days
the medicine man
found the herb and planned
two ceremonies
for the whiteman,
a man who extended his arm
to The People, and they, The People,
extended their arms.

They took him
to a sacred place
high in the mountain,
performing the secret ceremony
where sky
is greater than the earth.

The white man walked
in two worlds.

“You will be okay,”
they said.

In the end all we have is sky.


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry

The Healer, from Ethel Mortenson Davis’s I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico, iuniverse press

“…you have been yourself at the edge of the Deep Canyon and have come back unharmed” An Elder of the San Juan Pueblo. 1959. V. Laski. Seeking Life.
“I was invisible” An Asiatic Eskimo. 1980. D. Cloutier. Spirit Spirit, Shaman Songs.

In the snowy canyons
you came to me
as an eagle
and whispered
(in almost audible sounds)
“the key to the secret
of healing. . .”

For my wounds
had gone beyond wounds
and had festered
into deep holes
in my sides,
and gangrene had set in,

but, in a whisper,
you came and said,
“you have the keys within you.
You are the stars
in the starry night.
You are the source
at the mouth of rivers.
You have the medicine
to heal
already in your bones.”

And my wounds became
as faint as the sound
of feathers,
as pale as the ringed moon.

And the healer
came to me
in the face of the wolf.
She came
and nodded to me
with her deep intelligence,
and her eyes told me,
“your spirit is strength.
Your force is as great
as volcanoes,
for your goodness prevails
over the dark;
your goodness
has brought you out
of the deep canyon.”

And again the healer
came to me.
This time as a bear,
a joyous white bear
with great white paws,
and she told me,
“you were invisible,
but now I see you.
You have gone
to the edge of the great canyon
but have come back

“And now your laughter
will become
as mountainous as thunder,
and your tears
will be the tears of glory!”

I tell you.
I have put my ear
to the great Earth
and have felt your presence.


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Published Books