Skip to main content

STONE ALTAR by Krista Katrovas


 I believe that spirit and healing can be found in everything and through every practice…
As the Dalai Lama says, "We must make room for all believers, and also, room for the non-believers." 
The poem Stone Altar came to me after moving into my new home, after I made my Stone Altar. Though it is written in third person, it is I who I am speaking of in the poem.

Stone Altar

She balances her stones,
one on top of the other,
rocks she’s collected
from all over the U.S.
India, Europe,
and Canada,
places them onto a plate.
She calls them stone people.
Holds the spirit
of each one,
feeling their ruggedness,
tracing the cracks, bumps,
knots of earth,
hoping somehow
her hands are able to bring healing,
peace to the people,
to the ancestors,
to the memories stored inside the stones.

She picks up a gray one
from Terezin concentration camp,
imagines herself
rubbing the worry from it
while remembering the guide,
a man who’s now her friend.
He spoke of the human spirit,
the hope that they had
during those horrific times
as they worshipped in the ghettos,
in secret,
in the stone belly
of the hidden synagogue.

She hurt her foot
while carrying hot stones
with a pitch fork
into a sweat lodge.
Felt the heat of them,
the balls of fire
readied for sweaty prayer
before the water-filled gourd 
doused them,
making steam
to melt worry, ego,
so prayers would come.
Over time these stones break,
crumble into little ones
like the rocks
on her stone altar.

She is a mason of sorts, a witch,
a goddess, yogini, dakini,
Enlightened female Buddha,
who meditates, sweats, and prays
with stones.
~


Krista Katrovas (E-RYT) has dedicated herself to the practice, study and teaching of yoga since discovering it in 1999 after dancing rigorously as a dance major in college. Krista has had scores of articles on Yoga, Wellness, and Spirituality published in nationally regulated magazines. She has a regular column at Elephant Journal here. She has taught Yoga in Prague every July since 2009 and has been sought to teach in Kuwait, Canada, Virginia, California, Kentucky, and Florida. She calls Kalamazoo, Michigan home, where she teaches Yoga, Meditation, offers Spiritual guidance, and practices Shamanism. She has cats, though also loves dogs, all animals. Her power animal is the Snowy Owl. Visit her yoga website here.


~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

  This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather

THE JOURNEY by Mary Oliver

Today we honor Mary Oliver (1936-2019) and all the words she left behind. May they inspire you on your journey!  Excerpt from Mary Oliver’s book Long Life: Essays and Other Writings : "Poets must read and study... but, also, they must learn to tilt and whisper, shout, or dance, each in his or her own way, or we might just as well copy the old books. But, no, that would never do, for always the new self swimming around in the old world feels itself uniquely verbal.  And that is just the point: how the world, moist and bountiful, calls to each of us to make a new and serious response. That's the big question, the one the world throws at you every morning. 'Here you are, alive. Would you like to make a comment?'" The Journey By Mary Oliver  One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice-- though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug

STILL I RISE by Maya Angelou

Six years ago, I had the privilege of listening to Maya Angelou speak live on the value of poetry at the University of Florida. I share these reflections with you again today, in honor of her birthday.  I was relieved to get one of the last seats available for this rare event, having arrived at five for Maya Angelou ’s free speech at eight. The historically long line began with people settled into beach chairs in winter coats busying themselves on tablets, or eating sandwiches for dinner. As helicopters hovered above and newscasters below, I felt the excitement of realizing that thousands of people were gathering together to hear an eighty four year old black woman recite her poetry! Maya Angelou speaking at University of Florida on Feb. 27, 2013  When the curtain rose -after an overflow of hundreds were sent away- we lucky ones on the inside greeted Maya with a standing ovation, as she smiled sweetly, beginning her talk using metaphors from nature. Maya asked that we