Poems by Chera Van Burg
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What We Know
by Chera Van Burg
Chera recently migrated to a peninsula that juts out into Lake Michigan. The limestone backbone of the peninsula is part of the Niagara Escarpment, and is the traditional land of the Potawatomi, Ho-Chunk, Menominee, Ojibwe, and Sauk. She spends time exploring the geologically diverse area of rocky cliffs, sand dunes, bays, marshlands, swamps, inland lakes, and boreal, deciduous and conifer forests.
My days are measured by light,
not time. No longer living
a life of rootless velocity
and mad harvesting, I am
a fallow field unfettered
by purpose except to find
those moments that stop
my breath with quiet beauty
barely sensed without
Walden-like stillness. My pond
is a neighborhood in winter
where I, the visitor,
wander empty streets between
shuttered houses, sheltered in
solitude. Drifting over
wordless white fields, I sense
the dormant waiting beneath,
rooted in the wisdom
of darkness, trusting in death
and rebirth, knowing the soft
shoots of new life will
once again find the light. I trust
in this place, deeply listening
to the fervent bird
sing out its solitary song
knowing darkness will return
the light, and life reflect it.
© Chera Van Burg