Sandra Sault Poulson

Currently I am founding the Sustainable Cascadia project, a multi-year effort at whole scale change. We want to convene people from all sectors, develop action, and demonstrate progress toward sustainability in the Cascadia bioregion. I am an experienced organizational consultant, change agent with a vision for a sustainable future, most of which is inspired by my daughter, Miranda. I want her to know that her mom cared and showed up for the challenges. My business is RealTrust consulting in Seattle. The poem by Drew Dillinger says a lot about the edge of our times, what I am called to and a vision that is critical to us all. It rocks! And Mary Oliver’s poems have always inspired me. I’m not content to just read, I must co-create…ask me and I’ll SING Wild Geese to you.


A poem by Drew Dillinger

It’s 3:23 in the morning and I’m awake
because my great, great, grandchildren won’t let me sleep.
My great, great, grandchildren ask me in dreams
what did you do while the planet was plundered?
what did you do when the earth was unraveling?
surely you did something when the seasons started failing
as the mammals, reptiles and birds were all dying?
did you fill the streets with protest when democracy was stolen?
what did you do
once
you
knew

i’m riding home on the coma train
i’m riding home on the coma train
i’ve got the voice of the milky way in my dreams
i have teams of scientists feeding me data daily
and pleading I immediately turn it into poetry

i want justice-consciousness reached
by people in range of secret frequencies contained in my speech
i am the desirous earth equidistant to the underworld and the flesh of the stars
i am everything already lost
the moment the universe turns transparent and all the light shoots through the cosmos
i use words to instigate silence
i am a hieroglyphic stairway in a buried Mayan city
suddenly exposed by a hurricane
a satellite circling earth finding
dinosaur bones in the gobi desert
i am telescopes that see back in time
i am the precession of the equinoxes
the magnetism of the spiraling sea
i’m riding home on the coma train
with the voice of the milky way in my dreams
i am myths where violets blossom from blood like dying and rising gods
i’m the boundary of time, soul encountering soul and tongues of fire

it’s 3:23 in the morning and I’m awake
because my great great grandchildren won’t let me sleep
my great great grandchildren ask me in dreams,
what did you do while the earth was unravelling
i want justice-consciousness reached
by people in range of secret frequencies contained in my speech



Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

~Mary Oliver, New and Selected Poems: Volume One~