Remember that Autumn, we drove up to Campbell River, like teenagers, skipping out of class – a cackle of women, spiritually forming? Felt as if
Narrow passages, spiritual spires set bar – minded not teachings, constraint of hypocrisy oppressed connection to God. (Written in response to Willow Poetry’s “What Do
Thrum-thrum-thrum – I awaken with a start – heart pounding, intense heat stifling – flames shooting ceiling high form a ring around my bed, as
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.
(Rumi’s words have been on my mind lately, so I’ve decided to share them for today’s post.) The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell
(Note: Messages from the dreamtime inspire much of my poetry, and as an experiment, I decided to revisit an old dream, from May 2013, and