Peggy painted Morro Rock, which sits on the coast of Central California. It was formed 23 million years ago the hardened lava plug of a now long-gone volcano. It is one of a string of such plugs called the Nine Sisters. Several seas birds as well as peregrine falcons next on its rocky crown. Visitors are not allowed to climb the rock, but two California Indian tribes are allowed to climb it for sacred ceremonies. The rock has been a sacred place for these tribes since before the arrival of the Spanish.
My art represents a woman as a spiritual guide. So we combined the rock and Native American influence to bring our poem to life.
Spirit of the Rock
Fiery forces in for ancient youth
molten mountain mover
now cold and silent,
what eons' stories you could tell.
Eldest of nine sisters in a spirit chain,
ceremony of our dance
stopped by Thunderbird.
Eternal flame hidden by
thick rolling gray cloud cloak,
winged serpent's flaming beak appears
White Owl Woman warned
Mother Sky and Father Sun
our birth may be early.
Liquid fingers hold every sinew
orange and scarlet ripple
as shadows roll
Mother's crown of stars tilted
Father lulls and soothes her
White Owl Woman
cuts blazing vision with
Mother pants and groans
our births hover and breathe out
until we erupt.
Mother's salty tears flow
Father fetches white cap.
This morning on Father's glassy bay
otters, sailboats, falcons cry and play.
On your starry crown I
see your wrinkles and crevices
seeming as if they have always been
and always will be.