Silently, I follow
novice heart absent
Who can maneuver
the breathless streams
attempt a spiritual viewpoint
while continuously overwhelmed?
Urgently in need of a breakthrough
I am done, outdated
Summer’s passage conceded
this soul requires triage
An experience of caring
that does not resemble a demand for more.
(Image my own)
Exposed are we,
voyageurs crossing
this great expanse-
One tiny vessel
bearing life’s weight,
two oars to navigate
Unknown depths below
and shadows murky –
we push on. Row. Row.
Sights set on new land
uncharted possibilities –
pray the crossing favours us
Then a shape emerges –
great hulking mass –
parting waters,
rising and transforming
Is this a caricature of our fear?
I am mesmerized,
project a divine presence
look for mystical signs
He shrugs,
pragmatically notes that
the St Lawrence is home
to such mammals
I dream of whales,
crave communion –
yearn for their certainty
their knowing
Just as I wait for a sign
from the departed –
inviting a simpler life,
inspiring hope…
A shore life,
from which I can observe
the numinous.
(Image my own. This is a rewrite of an earlier post)
Extract the miracle
from the celebrated
Each story is lifeless
until told – its patterns
Stubborn, are innate –
We all crave renewal
I crave renewal
arms extended
fists unfolded
Believe in will –
the power to breathe life
into inert corners
Does not life support us?
Is not consciousness infinite?
and the divine patient?
Yesterday, I gave up
resigned myself to failure
(It’s a joke I play on myself)
This soul labours to find meaning
and I will breathe life into form
until quitting time finds me cleansed.
(Art my own)
Creativity partners more with chaos than clarity
It craves colour, light, darkness
movement not supported by 2 dimensions
I delude myself into thinking that words,
cleverly positioned, can decipher the compulsion
fail to understand that soul, unchained, has no words
It is the free-flowing expression of music, dance
It follows the murmuration of birds, and
crawls along the earth, serpent-like
I seek the intimacy of knowing other –
raw and unblemished – but how can this be?
We are form emerging from mystery
That I should find you, Love,
there amid the noise of awakening
then I am more than blessed
Your mind reaches for the definable
while I drowsily bask in sensations
our coming together never akin to wholeness
Yet explosive in its imperfection
Oh, if we could see the artistry
 arising from two souls seeking unity
Comprehend that we are the instrument
the vessel through which creativity speaks
a magnificent tribute to Life’s source.
(Art is a combination of my own effort and AI.)
In isolation, I am rock –
solid, fearless, present
Memories are moon-bows –
miracle of love, whispers
of what might have been
Will not let current fear
shape me; I am tethered
to faith, gently gliding.
(Image my own)
We wait at the station, Mother and I,
one final stop for her – painless she prays;
I busied at bedside – prolonged goodbye –
memories and regrets filling our days.
“We live too long,” she wearily proclaims
“Why must suffering linger till the end?”
I plea and bargain, call angelic names,
yet the will to survive refuses to bend.
The urgency builds as my time dwindles;
must I leave her in this compromised state?
She rallies and stands on wobbly spindles
dismisses fears – has accepted her fate.
Some destinations are clearly defined –
Death is a train whose schedule’s unkind.
(The Last Train first appeared January 2019. Image my own)
It wasn’t the knowledge of stability –
chaos had the upper hand back then.
It wasn’t even that love was expressed –
unconditional an unheard of concept
It was an unspoken presence
the reassurance of rocks
the irrepressible allure
of a freshwater stream
How a child’s heart
found encouragement
in the whispering wind
solace in the arbored shelter
Naturally the din of home life
overpowered this self-assured
passage, disrupted kinship
and shattered childish faith
But all that is behind now
and when I clear cluttering
thoughts, disperse static
emotions, quiet the heart
The rhythms are still there –
presence offering sustenance…
(Poem first appeared here, January, 2021. Image my own)
Resting, I pray for peace
but it is temporary
guilt intervenes
What if I withdraw
commit to solitude
keep my tongue?
I need angel guidance
this mothering heart
infectious, requires wisdom
My past is soiled
I am stinking, tainted
Can forgiveness help?
Pick me up,
give me strength
I am lacking courage
Teach me moderation
modesty to guide my words
I only want to help…
But this vile thirst
this self-deprecation
reigns me in
What value have I
in a world stricken by need
my offering mere morsels?
I pray for peace
I pray for grace
Forgiveness offers a hand.
(Image my own).
Heron’s wings span six-feet wide
great grey appendages in rhythmic flight
Dragonfly wings are camouflaged,
propel elongated bodies who hover in sight
Monarch’s wings are stained-glass delicate
with each flutter, sprinkle fantasies of delight
My wings, imaginary, give me faith and hope
mechanisms of spirituality, my soul’s fire ignite.
(Image mine)
One Woman's Quest 