Dance beside Father Spirit
His universe a sacred gift
Join me here & out there,
find you are a favourite star –
The good which belongs in Him,
although mutual, sounds like quiet
Think, feel, care, and laugh on.
(Friday’s are now inspired by magnetic poetry online.)
A cup of kindness,
simple, yet moving target –
social tides failing.
(Written for Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge: cup/ goal. Image from personal collection.)
Path to peace is circuitous –
having been modeled unrest,
schooled in denial…
Expectation envisions
a grassy peninsula –
gently rolling greens
and tranquil blue waters –
predictability that lulls
I am accustomed to together –
the perpetual state of empathic
measuring – one’s values aligned
to another’s emotional indicator
Looking outward, I contemplate;
force-feed my innards with fluff
of how-to’s and top ten ways –
nothing that sustains…
It’s dawning now that neither
upbringing, nor expectation,
nor the noise of expert wannabees,
will lead me to the peace I seek.
I turn my attention to nature –
study the steadfast confidence
of the Great Blue wading through
darkened waters, intently aware
Like a feathered shaman, he
mesmerizes me, commands respect,
calms the noise and lifts my soul –
the secret is within, his presence
whispers, and for once, I listen.
(This week, I am focusing on living with intent, specifically interested in the ways in which I invite peace into my life. My weekly challenge is open to all.)
Thrum-thrum-thrum –
I awaken with a start –
heart pounding,
intense heat stifling –
flames shooting
ceiling high form
a ring around my bed,
as if dancing –
I am frozen, mute.
Is this death?
Distorted faces
leer through fiery curls –
like ancient tribal masks –
menacing, angry
the distinct sound of voices
penetrates the fire’s roar
and too frightened to respond,
I succumb to unconsciousness.
A hallucination, the doctor deduces –
an adolescent’s overactive imagination…
till, child no more, I gather
with other women,
and a drum –
thrum-thrum-thrum
and darkness pulls me back –
to the centre of the ring –
flames, and faces, and voices
only now, I am no longer afraid –
release my soul to the dance.
(Written for the dVerse pub where Victoria is hosting with the prompt: fire.)
Day, no more than a sliver, casts a subtle glow on the path. A small bird tap-tapping on windowpane has awakened me, invited me out. I follow it now, as it flits from tree to bush along the way. We come to a stream, whose waters swirl in a nearby eddy then rush over the rocks, merrily singing Earth’s praises. Seventy-eight acres of untouched land surround me. Birch, oak, and willow among the giants that offer shelter. I have come on retreat. A chance to regroup and recharge.
This bird is not the first to rouse me in the early hours; it had been happening for days leading up to this journey. I take it as an omen: be awake, pay attention.
I feel the presence immediately. I am not alone at the water’s edge this crisp, cool spring morning. Although I cannot see her, I know her at once – an essence I have not felt since I was child. Mother Earth. I begin to cry.
“Why did you abandon me?” The words tumble, unexpectedly.
How long has it been since I’d felt her reassurance, the protective shield of her patient strength? I remember how as a child, locked out of home, she walked with me, whispered to me through the subtleties of the wind, and taught me the rhythms of life.
“It was you who abandoned me.” The knowing hits me, like a punch to the stomach. It is so true. I turned my back on her, adopted the ways of civilization – embracing education and busyness as a means to happiness, forgetting the promise of inner peace she offers.
‘Can you forgive me? ‘ I cry. The sorrow of our separation now hitting me in waves of grief – a torrent of shame and blame, and guilt. How I have lost touch with so much in the years since she and I passed the days in innocence.
“There is nothing to forgive. I am always here, whenever you need me.”
The thing is, I tell myself, as day’s light obliterates dawn’s encounter; allergies keep me indoors, and as a mother of three, I spend my days chauffeuring. What time do I have for Nature, for daydreaming?
I will not find her again, for many years, when sickness closes the door on accepted life practices and forces me into isolation, desolation. It doesn’t happen all at once, but gradually, over time, starting with a little bird’s tap-tapping on my windowpane, inviting me to look outside. Inside.
(Written for Willow Poetry’s challenge: What Do You See? Image supplied as part of the challenge.)
Reposting this for my weekly challenge with the theme of river.
There’s a river runs between us,
you and I; our thoughts, like tears,
are liquid carried by the current.
But you, and I,
we stand on the banks, oblivious,
ignoring the connection,
proudly touting our individualism.
Still the river flows
and all you’ve suffered
and all I’ve suffered
or dreamed, or imagined, or hoped
flows with it.
Step into the water with me,
feel our connection;
do not be afraid
for it is sacred –
wade deeper and know
you are not alone
for I am here
in this river
that runs between us.
(Originally posted in October, 2014. Edited here.)
Inhale – chest rises –
exhale – chest falls – summon new,
expel old; repeat.
(Haiku written for Ronovan Writes Haiku challenge: rise/fall)
Ancestral circles
steeped in lore – symbolism
lost, and imminent –
Geometric rhythms play
with destiny, ascribe fates.
(For Willow Poetry’s What Do You See? Image supplied by Hélène.)
(Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge is breath & unite.)
Even as we harvest
the fruits of our endeavors,
as the leaves of summer
give over to golden dreams
and light reaches through
gathering clouds, illuminating,
celebrating; we must not forget
that we are a part of this living
miracle, that our lives, in harmony
with Nature, deserve reverence.
One Woman's Quest 