Carla DeCrona's Poetry, Art & Stories

A year-long remembrance of a well-loved island woman with friends around the globe, presented here, for easy international viewing.

Sunday, January 22nd, 2023

In late September, my mother received a cancer diagnosis and returned home mid-October to spend her final weeks with her family. To her surprise, she remained with us a couple months, living to see the first days of the New Year. Surrounding her with our love, and experiencing her intense love in return, was an honor and a blessing.

Along the journey, we came face to face with the reality of Washington State’s “Death with Dignity” system and its imperfections. We also realized, in further conversations with people working within the death industry (I mean no disrespect by this term), that our experiences were not out of the ordinary. In the future, The Vashon Loop will publish a carefully researched piece (or series) intended to bring light to the reality faced by doctors, patients, their family members and those working to aid us in the inescapable adventure awaiting us all.

To me, this is an example of “localized news” having deep meaning and relevancy for people far beyond our community. Indeed, what could be more internationally relevant than how we engage with, prepare for and allow ourselves to experience death?

One benefit offered to paid subscribers will be “advance publishing” of content that will arrive a few weeks later, in our paper issue and on our website. Today, as an example of this, I am sharing one of my mother’s many poems, with her permission. It will also appear in our February Issue of The Vashon Loop, released around February 7th.

For years, my mother was encouraged to publish her writing. She has a brightness and gentle elegance, a freeness with words and a solid grasp on conceptualization, and she shared this poem - written several years ago - with me in late December. Now, I share it with you.

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A Pilgrimage Begins

by Carla Dawn DeCrona

At the sea’s threshold, my feet hug the warm sand.
Behind me,
the voices of chant rise,
echo off the cliffs,
ride the wind,
call the guides. 
Glistening dolphins surge towards me,
singing in crisp, clear tones: 
the Invitation is given.

Behind me,
a life lays sleeping,
a warm, sweet ordinary life,
one I could not live.
Behind me,
mornings full of bird song,
sun on smiling faces,
shaded thoughts of freedom.
Behind me,
tiny dark eyes,
sharp as black stars,
piercing the lies I wore.
Behind me,
around the dying fire,
ash stained faces drum,
each beat cutting the cord,
each beat bidding me farewell.

Before me,
the moonlight path lays bright.
My feet release the land, greet the sea.
Stepping into my kayak,
swaying softly in the glowing foam,
my breathing slows
matching the rhythm of the waves.
One long, deep tone,
links me to all the Aumakua,
opens the Songline.

The dazzle of moon casts its spell.
Sinking into it, I lift my paddle,
snuggle into the close catch of my boat.
Leaning into the waves, I rock forward then back 
breaking the bond with the land, 
letting the water take me out, away, 
into the wildness of the sea,
into the wildness of my life.

Greeting me with puffs of air, murmured squeaks,
my dolphin escort gathers close.
We touch, edge to edge, skin to skin.
I long to fall into their number
move as one with them
dive deep into hidden realms…
but that mystery must wait.

They brook no delay. 
With a spray of cold salt water, 
they fling themselves away,
leaping upon the moonlit sea.
Blinking the wetness from my eyes,
my arms already raised to fly, 
I fall into the smooth rhythm of my stroke,
one with my oar, one with my craft, 
one with the shimmering surface of the sea…

The voices of chant ring out against the dark cliffs,
singing me on my journey,
fading in the distance,
as I unfurl my spirit to the night wind;
A Pilgrimage begins.