It’s Poetry Friday! You’ll find this week’s roundup of poetry goodness with Jan Godown Annino at Bookseed Studio. Jan is awash in the joy of seeds and shares some inspiration with us in the poetry of Sharon Lovejoy. Jan is the author of the award-winning
She Sang Promise: The Story of Betty Mae Jumper, Seminole Tribal Leader
The prompt was to write an elegy…
Having never written an elegy, I spent some time looking at traditional versions. I was leaning toward the lighter more humorous samples Marcie pointed us to, until I ran into this on my morning walk…
song for the saguaro
gentle giant in repose
weathered witness
to ten thousand suns
your graceful arms still,
steadfast to the end
renowned icon of arid land
you demur:
sweet sweat dripped from the Creator’s brow
the pup survived, thrived
gift of a nurse tree’s shield
you gave flesh and fruit and rib
cortege of gilded flicker,
purple martin, long-nosed bat
leave a pod of gratitude
my desert prayer:
Spirit of your people,
carry you home.
©2023, Patricia J. Franz
The O’odham peoples of the Sonoran Desert have long revered the saguaro cactus
as a being with personhood.
For more information on the rights-of-nature movement: https://emergencemagazine.org/op_ed/rights-of-nature-at-the-border/
and
https://emergencemagazine.org/essay/saguaro-free-of-the-earth/
A saguaro (sa·wa·ro) is a tree-like cactus that can grow to 65 feet and sprout candelabra-esque arms. But they grow v e r y s l o w l y – like an inch or few per year. Typically those upright arms don’t appear till the saguaro is at least 70-80 years old.
I imagine the saguaro I came upon may have been 150 -200 years old. The photo at left is not the same one, though it is similar in size and arms. It gives you a sense of just how big they are.
I walk that path numerous times over the course of a week. When did it die? Why did it fall? Something this size would surely have made a large noise. It barely broke apart. It seemed to have simply laid itself down.
Patricia Franz writes picture books and poetry. She believes children, dogs, and sourdough have a lot to teach us about life, joy, and wonder. She has raised two boys, four dogs, and holds a master’s degree in Theology with a focus on children’s spirituality. Patricia, her husband, her Bernese Mountain dog, Bonny, and her sourdough starter split their time between the Arizona desert and the Sierra Nevada mountains. 
Patricia, I love your elegy honoring the sacred saguaro; it moved me. Your title and first line, “gentle giant in repose” hooked me. When I read aloud your first stanza, your alliteration, consonance of letter /s/, and rhythm did indeed sound like a song. These lines especially spoke to me, your graceful arms still, /steadfast to the end”/, “sweet sweat dripped from the Creator’s brow/ the pup survived, thrived”, “you gave flesh, fruit, and rib”, “leave a pod of gratitude”, and “Spirit of your people/carry you home.”
Thank you for the links. I did read the essay about saguaro in the Emergence Magazine, which I enjoyed and also moved me. I am curious if your line in your poem “the pup survived, thrived” is in reference to “the traditional story of a boy who became the first saguaro” in the essay meaning the boy is the pup?
Ever since I was a child, I have always been fascinated with Indigenous people, and their traditions. I have always been a nature lover and love to spend At the time I didn’t know that an ancestor of my father married a native woman. The Indigenous people, who lived in our area are Mohawk and Abenaki. Therefore, I think I have either Mohawk or Abenaki blood running through me, which I am proud of. I have always been a nature lover and loved to spend many hours outside. I have always felt connected to the woods and mountains. I want to find out more about my native heritage.
I will read your other link at another time. Thank you for sharing your beautiful poem, links, and inspiration.
PS For some reason the photos that your mentioned didn’t come through. I already knew what a saguaro looked like because when I was in my 20s, I visited a friend in AZ. While she was at work, I took a horseback ride in the desert and saw saguaro.
Gail, thank you for your kind words and sharing the discovery of your own native connection. I’ve been quite taken by BRAIDING SWEETGRASS – and doing what I can to incorporate a deep reverence for the gifts of land into my poetry. Part of this is learning about the indigenous people/original cultures. I love some of the creation stories I’m coming across. The pup I mention is primarily in reference to the saguaro as a youngster (they’re called cactus pups); but it lent itself to echoing some of the creation myth of the Tohono O’odham, too.
Thank you for explaining. Braiding Sweetgrass is excellent, which reminds me I need to finish reading it. I’m happy that you are enjoying learning about indigenous cultures, and you are incorporating their beliefs into your poetry.
Beautiful. From the idea of, ‘I’ll try it’ to the walk, writing, incorporating First People’s beliefs…to the poem itself. This is what draws me to poetry. It’s a way of seeing and honoring the world. ” ten thousand suns…survived…pod of graditude.” Reading this post is very contemplative. Thank you. Now, I need to write an elegy too!
Here are the resources I gave to your group, in case you want to explore.
Write an elegy.
What’s an elegy? It expresses grief, sadness, or loss. https://poets.org/glossary/elegy
It doesn’t have to be for a person or even very serious (though it could be if you wanted). Some examples of non-human elegies:
My inspiration for this prompt came from here: Elegy for the Gnat: https://www.pshares.org/issues/winter-2021-22/elegy-gnat
A few others:
Clickbait Elegy: https://www.thesunmagazine.org/issues/514/clickbait-elegy
Telephone Booths and Cursive: https://plumepoetry.com/two-elegies-by-claudia-emerson/
Thank you for adding these, Marcie!
So glad it touched something in you, Linda.
This is so lovely and heartbreaking. I have had the same experience walking and suddenly realizing something has changed, something has gone… Thank you for marking it.
I am much more aware of offering gratitude to the land having read BRAIDING SWEETGRASS. It’s such a lovely practice.
I can feel your alarm and sorrow in seeing the saguaro no longer standing. (For some reason the photos did not come through on my end, but I gather that’s what happened). I think you nailed the parts of an elegy beautifully—the lament, praise, and consolation—ending with that incredible blessing. Thanks, Patricia!
Thank you, Rose. I was really grateful for the prompt this week.
Beautiful elegy for the saguaro, that gentle giant in repose. It’s hard to wrap my brain around how large and heavy and old those are when I see them on visits with my brother. Our trees here are very different and grow much faster.
They are such specimens, aren’t they! I’m visiting sisters in CA this week where there are many old oak trees that fell due to the soaking rains this past month. It’s interesting to compare their size to our saguaros.
Thank you for bearing witness to the life of this saguaro. Your elegy is beautiful.
That’s what I hoped to do… bear witness. It seemed fitting, given how much it likely witnessed over the last 150 years.
Just put myself back in the desert at dawn with your elegy…an exquisite meditation. Wish I was there….
I’m glad this brought you back, if only in memories.
Patricia, I just sent you a message on IV about all of the lovely lines in this poem. And the picture. Oh man. So heartbreaking.
Thank YOU for the prompt!
It is a lovely elegy to that elder, Patricia. It looks as if it did just lie down, even now looks alive in a different way. I have been to the Sonora Desert several times, always in awe of those saguaro cacti. My students and I spent time with the O’odham people learning of their ways in the desert, the uses of the saguaro. It was a special time.
I would love to participate in one of their harvests. I’m hoping to visit in February to find out more.
What a moving elegy — and how interesting to learn about the saguaro. Can’t believe how big they get and how long they usually survive. Natural wonder for sure.
Thank you, Jama. They are so unique!
This is so lovely. I didn’t know they grew so large or lived so long. Thank for this touching post!
I’m glad it touched something for you, Linda.
Oh, Patricia, this is just beautiful, and so moving. The picture of that “weathered witness” pulls at my heart. You captured its passing so beautifully.
I feel like I’ve been grieving all week!
Patricia–weathered witness
to ten thousand suns — what a wonderful ode/elegy!
Thank you, Laura. I continue to watch it on my walks. I imagine it may eventually return completely to the land.
You’ve opened my eyes to something new, Patricia. I’ve never seen a dead saguaro cactus before. I love the moment of your poem that lists the creatures: the purple martin, the long-nosed bat.
Yes, the cortege… the saguaro offers itself to so many creatures; these are just a few. Thank you, Laura.
Your opening words are beautiful and befitting for this “gentle giant,” you brought the sorrow and hurt into our hearts, thanks Patricia.