Good Bones


RW was away on a mule deer hunt on the Idaho side of the Owyhee last week.  When he came home, he had a present for me — this beautiful and intact fox skull!

I took a day off from work today as I had to toil through the weekend and one of the things I busied myself with (besides reading, lunch out with my fellow, a hike, a bike ride, a visit to the bookery and a hot bath) was cleaning up this skull.  It has been boiled, scrubbed and is now sitting in a puddle of bleach.  I  find myself imagining what kind of life this little fox had over in the Owhyees.  When I hold this little skull in my hands I can sense the wild broadness of that big country to the West.  I find myself writing poems about bones.

There’s something sort of opalescent about a nice white bone, not in the true, stony definition of the word opalescent but in the feeling of the spirit attached to the thing that remains — some holy vector of abiding alabastrine and prismatic strength.  I think of power and fortitude when I ponder on bones, I think of Sampson slaying an army with the jawbone of a donkey.  I think of the pain when one breaks.  I think of the ancient remainders when the delicate fur, feathers and flesh have been stripped away:  food for field mice, sepulchres of calcium, ruins in wheat fields blending with the blond of stubble, the marrow of the matter, frameworks for the homes of souls.  Bones tell stories but they cannot speak.  I wonder about my own, my own small bones, (this home for my soul) and the tales they weave within the mesh net of my electric heartbeat.  These days, I find myself being romantic about almost everything.  All things, all experiences seem to speak so loudly to my soul.  The world seems rich and the possibilities for us all seem unfathomable.

I think I’m building opals in my joints.  There seems to be water moving in ten million bitsy rainbow tides of fire within the white rocks of my bones.  Here in my soul is a sun flaring and forming of polychromatic aurora borealis on some cluster of green planets far away from here.  I want to yell out: Shut your eyes, this is all too bright.  And then I want to reach out and warm the chill right out of you, kiss your face and tell you that you can do anything, because you can.  Read it.  It’s all there in my bones.

Comments

  1. Lovely!! Just lovely, your writing takes my breath away…..
    A lovely post as always…
    I hope that one day you write a book, for all of us to read your lovely words, and see your Beautiful photos…

    Have a wonderful week!
    xx Juli

  2. so poetic…
    i look forward to your books taking up residence on my shelves, tomes of bones and wheat fields and snowfall and all things magic.
    xx

  3. What you wrote reminded me of these lyrics –

    We are stardust
    We are golden
    We are billion-year-old carbon

    I love those 3 lines. It makes me feel so incredibly infinite and yet so small (but not in a bad way). Your writing makes me feel the same way.

  4. I sit here at my desk, tears stinging my eyes, hope swelling my ribcage. Thank you, though perhaps I should not read these things at work…
    Have a magical day.

  5. you are just fantastic. i love reading your words because you see things that i don’t see. and i love that. you broaden my perspective, and i’m so very thankful for you and your writings! hope you have a fabulous day!!

  6. I am impressed by the incredible teeth….I too am led to think about the fox that was…his atoms will go through the earth and through another plant and maybe through us…so incredibly weird.

    take good care of that skull xo

  7. ack! Here I thought you hadn’t posted for over a week or more (I guess since your switchover to WordPress – it wasn’t notifying me)… I wandered over to your blog to say hello, and how I was missing your sweet.soul.enriching posts – and wonder of wonders you’ve been posting away! You’re a constant inspiration of sucking the very marrow of joy out of life – well done! ;o)
    xo
    Mel

  8. mashed potatoes says

    your writing is always beautiful. i needed this post. it made me feel better.
    helped me to understand. thank you, dear lovely. xo

  9. Gnashing of teethies!

    Matt and I went a-walking the other day and found a skunk skull, perfectly bleached. Well, almost perfectly bleached. Still had some fur left. and TEENY TINY teeth!

    This is a very fine skull indeed. Your house is turning into a stunning natural history museum!

  10. *this* is exactly why i like you so much.

  11. Thank you ALL for these really sweet comments! xx

  12. oh, he brings you home the most beautiful of gifts. I can see the poetry in the little fox’s bones, too. Bones hold so many stories; as you said, bones house our soul – and I can imagine the bones we leave behind holding onto ghosts of our soul.

  13. Lovely bones~
    xoxoxox

  14. Hey! Thank you for your website ! Frankly speaking I have never come across anything that interesting.