πετροστελος

June 10, 2009

What exactly do you mean by the color green?

Filed under: environoment,poetry,theology — Petros @ 6:15 am
Tags: ,

What exactly do you mean by the color green?
Is it a hue, a spectrum of light from the sun?
Or the religious practice of worshipping what is seen?
Which believes anthropogenic global-warming has won?

What have you said when you invoke the color red?
Is it the violence which sheds the life’s blood of some?
But what greater love than for a friend to have bled?
As in the semeion of God who spares not his true son.

Even what is seen as painful, mortal vaccine,
Eliminated deadly disease and lives preserved.
What gift of love of fish or bull or even swine
That provides protein to young or old undeserved!

Perhaps we want by vice to return to paradise,
By lifting our bootstraps or building a tower.
Eating no meat or hugging bears is not wise,
We won’t return to Eden by our own power.

A query for Moussa Bongoyok regarding his poem The real color of Love

May 13, 2009

Anchorage Bears, Sourdough and Paradise Lost

For the family of Jim, the Sourdough

The AP reports that 315 bears (250 blacks; 65 grizzlies) now live within my hometown of Anchorage, Alaska.  During the 22 years that I resided in Alaska, I never saw a bear in the city limits.  On the very edges of the Service High School area, in the Chugach mountains, there were rare black bear sightings.  Now, experiences that were common to remote settlements like Cooper Landing have become a regular occurrence in the suburb of Eagle River and the outlying areas of the city proper of Anchorage.

Bears are dangerous animals.  I learned about the perils of bears from Jim, a Sourdough.  The term “Sourdough” was used of old-timers who lived in Alaska well before statehood, while it was still the Last Frontier.  They got the name because they would keep a sourdough crock to which they would add flour and water on a nightly basis. Every morning they would make sourdough hot cakes from the dough, leaving a small amount in the crock to leaven the next batch. It is a hearty breakfast that would make the sedentary urban dweller obese within weeks. Jim, his wife and kids were my family’s best friends as I was growing up.  We often went moose hunting with them or visit them in Cooper Landing, where Jim had a 100-year old log cabin set on glacier-fed Kenai Lake below mountains where wild sheep could be seen grazing.  We would all bunk in the cabin’s loft–a big open room with several beds.  I remember having trouble sleeping because of all the adults snoring so loudly.  On one such visit, when I was about twelve years old, Jim taught me how to make sourdough pancakes from the pot that he had kept leavened for many years.

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