A Daily Prayer

May the Light of Love blind us
to the faults and imperfections
we each have, now and forevermore.


tara caribou | ©2017-2021

I Never Could

“You are more than the sum of your pasts…
you are your future as well”

His words whispered in my ear
One warm summer evening
And the tears that shone in his eyes
Told me all I needed to know:
I had already lost him

He saw more in me than I ever could
The reflection in his eyes
I never could get there
What I witnessed disgusted me
I hated myself
I still do
Where he saw a future possible
I saw nothing but my former life
Our hands never could meet in the middle
The now

And I knew what I had done
Sabotaging myself
And him
Yet I never could get myself turned around
Facing his direction
The pull of history had too firm a grasp
I had given it so much power
Breaking its grip
Meant breaking myself

While I know I need to tear myself free
Chip away the caked on cement of clay
From off my eyes
Still I keep it wrapped about me
A comfortable cloying suffocation
It holds me back
Keeps me from growing

And still
Still
The old voices dominate my mind
You’ll never be good enough


tara caribou | 2018-2021

Summer Into Autumn Photography

Due to unforeseen circumstances this spring in my household, my workload increased and my summer has been busy, busy. Autumn is always busy, with harvesting moose and foraging for berries. I thought I’d give you all a break from the macro shots and share a little hodgepodge. Enjoy!

One of the wild bunnies on the property collecting fresh hay for his burrow.
On a hot day, nothing feels as nice as the cool air beneath a canopy of alders.
Looking into the alders, it’s like a whole new world, very grounding and magical.
Sometimes the sky looks like a painting and I stare in awe.
Salmon from subsistence fishing.
Beautiful colors.
Smoking the salmon.
Another gorgeous sunset from my front porch.
The fair comes every August.
And watched this sword-swallower guy. Wow. So cool to see it in person.
This wild baby bunny, who I called Cinnamon, invited herself into my house several times.
Gorgeous day at the beach.
Chemtrails all day makes for some interesting skies.
They don’t call it fireweed for nothing.
I don’t have any food for you, bunny.
Butchering the moose.

tara caribou | ©2021 all photos mine

Pollution

My lips burn to say the words
I love you

It almost doesn’t seem fair
Dragging you down to me

See you’re wonderful
Incredible
Amazing
Not perfect but you’re simply you

And I contaminate you with my filth
My sins and my darkness

I’m selfish
I want you

But if you’re pure light
I’m tar
Enslaving covering
Sucking you down into my depths
Marring you

If you step in to my heart
You’ll never be cleansed of me again

I’ll infect you with my decay
Pollute you with my impurity
Defile you with my foulness

And yet even so my lips continue to seethe
Tingling and tormented
With the longing to tell you

Just how much I love you


tara caribou | ©2018-2021

Berry Picking Photography

Well, it’s definitely that time of year here in my part of Alaska: berry picking. And boy has it been a great year for berries. I had to put the brakes on my nearly daily forays into the woods/muskeg due to the fact that there’s a shortage of canning jars locally. Happens nearly every year… and I thought I was prepared but it’s been such a great year that I ran out and finally was able to find a business that had some tucked away, still in stock. So, it’s back out for more berries again.

This year (so far) I’ve been able to harvest wild strawberries (much much much better than those flavorless ones you find at the grocery store), lingonberries (just getting started on these – also known as low-bush cranberries), low-bush blueberries, watermelon berries, and some currants, though they aren’t quite ready yet. Oh, and some rhubarb because I do love my rhubarb jam.

Anyway, hope you enjoy a couple quick pics from recent days.

A few gallons of wild strawberries.
Watermelon berries.. which I’m not a huge fan of, but a request for jelly was made.
My favorite: lingonberries.
Best place to find lingonberries (low-bush cranberries), is on old rotten logs.
Gooseberries, also known as stink currants. This is the first time I’ve seen these on my property.
The more common red currant, *almost* ready in the setting sun.
Low-bush blueberries. Hard not to eat these suckers, they’re so tasty. Much better than from the store.
Not quite ripe in this section. I’ll come back for you guys later…
Dwarf dogwood, which I don’t like at all, but they sure are cheerful.
My number one favorite berry is the moss (or crow) berry… and this is the first I’ve seen them this year. This was on someone else’s land, so I didn’t get any…
….the bear did though.

tara caribou | ©2021 all photos by me

Moonlight Kisses

moonlight kisses your shoulder
and all my dreams are realized
in one gentle sigh
a breathe of exhale
the shadow of a smile
memories and fantasies like a web
my fingers stroke your cheek
as you turn into my arms
and love blooms again


tara caribou | ©2021

Spiral Artist

I was flying amongst the clouds
Floating and one with the salty sea air
The breezes ruffling my feathers
The sun upon my wings and my beak

Turning my head
First one eye then the other
I spied from high above the oceans swells
Something spreading
Across the water’s surface

It was black and shiny
Rainbow colors moving and pulsing

Drawn to its dark beauty I
Tucked my wings and descended
A spiral artist as I circled gently down

Drawing close
I stretched forth my webbed feet
Dropping down with a wet plop

You were beautiful from afar
But when I touched you
You clung to my feathers
You covered my skin and my beak
You stung my eyes

I couldn’t preen
Without your oil soaking into me

Still I kept trying and now look at me
Black oil smeared all over
Floundering in the slick that is you

I’ll drown soon
Because there’s no way
I’ll ever fly again


tara caribou | ©2018-2021 revised

*please remember, this work has nothing to do with or about or towards the blogger mentioned, simply that I used their blog name/title/tagline as a writing prompt.

Time After Time

my heart and soul
‘twined with yours
a vision of eternity, of things to come

a brief intake of a breath
two hands touching,
palm to palm

trembling, yet at rest
gazing inward
eyes like muddy pools

we are sinking but flying
soaring up, up to the clouds
never any effort, we’re natural

meeting time after time
slipping into the nether
rising again, for such a time as this

brandishing love
much like a sword,
I fall on my blade again


tara caribou | ©2021

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