Loving

 

I loved touching him,

I loved being touched.

I loved holding him,

I loved being held.

I loved kissing him,

I loved being kissed.

I loved loving him,

I loved being loved.

But he is gone

And has taken with him the

Touching,

Holding,

Kissing, and

Loving.

The once warm darkness we shared in early morning loving

Is now empty and cold.

Memories are all I have left.

My sorrow is complete.

Watcher of the Woods

From my bedroom window

I watch the woodland change with the seasons.

On the corner of the house, a maple branch hugs the windowsill

Its leaves framing my view of the forest.

How can I explain the secret life of leaves I observe from my window and the

Magical growth that takes place in silence unseen?

I can think of no words to use, so instead I just watch, I watch the breeze

ruffle the leaves and the branches move together in the wind like fans made of feathers.

And then the rain comes, and I watch the drops play the

Leaves like keys on a piano.

I am content with my role as watcher and marvel at the strength and skill the trees employ when they interlock their arms to form an impenetrable force of gentle power in silence.

These graceful tree spirits are woven together by the hand of God to create

The framework of the forest.

They surround my home and speak to my soul.

My heart hears their thoughts and hopes,

And I realize and know that they are

Not so different from me.

I understand and accept that we share this planet and are

Children of the One in all our varied forms.

All connected,

All equal in the eyes of our creator.

And the peace and stillness of the wood

pervades my soul and feeds my spirit and makes me one with those who stand outside looking in.

So I’m Told

I don’t have a love like that.

Thought I did, once.

Maybe I should make one up?

I could, but

Would it have the same hold,

The same power and depth of feeling

If it only existing in my mind?

Although my mind takes its direction from my heart,

Is my heart to be trusted?

Would I make the fantasy so good that every reality thereafter would be a disappointment?

But then, isn’t that inevitable anyway…

A remembered event is most often better than the event itself.

In looking back, my memory adds flavor and substance to one who really was without either.

He was just a shell of my creation, a vessel for me to

Fill with what I wanted him to be.

I made the vessel strong to hold what I needed, or so I thought.

It was my error.  The vessel of my own making wasn’t up to the task.

So as payback for my mistake, I continue to miss something I never had,

To love someone who didn’t exist and to cherish a love that wasn’t returned.

How could it have been?

It was only a fantasy and

Faith in a fantasy is as

Empty and sinking as the leaky vessel that carries it.

We are supposed to learn from our mistakes.

Or so I’m told.

Holders of Stars

I have joined my sisters and retreated.

Back and back to the very beginning,

Not just my beginning but yours, ours.

Back to when the sacredness of women was honored.

A time when it was known and valued that women were

The givers of life and holders of stars.

Society has changed over the years, but in our hearts there remains

An understanding of the continuity of our original place and purpose.

We know that we are not in or of this world

But exist in our eternal beingness.

We are awake and are coming back to claim our rightful place.

The past is remembered in our collective consciousness and it is with renewed Courage and strength that we again dance in the forest,

And the forest dances in us.

Once more the mountains and ocean belong to us,

And we to them.

Our renewed story is a recognition of our eternal story.

It is the story of our connection to the divine,

Not one limited to any certain place or time but a story for all eternity.

The same eternity that resides in a milkweed bloom, a bird’s egg,

A baby’s laugh, and our hearts.

And although our voices remain soft and gentle, we will no longer be silenced.

We are not done with this world and

The writing of our collective story will never be finished

As it has no beginning or end.

Our time is now and together we will step out of time one by one and

Rejoin our story where we were forced out of it years ago.

We are still the givers of life and

The holders of stars.

Sacred women once more,

As one voice and mind.

Together again and always.

I Don’t Know

 Lonely hearts,

Collect cobwebs in the corner.

While words left unspoken,

Hang like dust motes in the sunshine.

But Life goes on with paths un-taken, names forgotten, hearts neglected.

A love was left behind,

Unwanted.

Where did it go?

Is there a place for misplaced love?

A place where it is held

And comforted or does it just dissipate slowly

Like dew in the sunshine…

I don’t know.

I just

Don’t

Know…

Epic Love

That epic love, the one we can only know in our deepest heartspace, the one that remains in secret just below the surface, always.  The one we don’t speak of, ever…

It is a love other women of deep emotion and passion will understand as they have felt it too.

That one where all the signs and signals said beware, stay away,

But you didn’t, you couldn’t.

It was the Cinderella fantasy come to life.

A love too good to be true,

And was.

But it remains a time and a love that will stay in your heart and at the edge of your mind forever.

One that brings tears in the present but fond, soft and gentle memories in the future.

A love that was never meant to last, there was too much passion.  It was too intense and raw to be maintained for long.

It came into your heart like an avalanche of emotion, a storm of lust, a tide of love to overtake your Being and then just as violently as it came, it was gone, leaving you lost and heartbroken. 

But in spite of all the pain, it changed you for the better into a woman who felt a love she will never forget, never imagined was possible and will never repeat.

But then, if you are honest with yourself, you knew from the beginning that it was never really yours to keep,

Didn’t you…

Both

Why does dark seem heavy while light is, well, light?
Is one easier to carry than the other?
Dark seems to have weight,
Light doesn’t.
Dark holds you back but
Light lights your way.
There is a dark night of the soul
But joy in the morning light.
Night’s darkness surrounds my little cottage
Making its windows shine from within.
Life’s darkness surrounds my soul making my heart shine from within.
I cannot have one without the other.
I am thankful for both.

No One

 

In bits and pieces,

Dribs and drabs, 

Bit by bit, he fades away.

Less and less and less… until 

There is no more, and

All that is left is brittle pieces on the floor

To be swept under the rug where no one will see,

No one will care, no one will know, not even him.

No one.

Except me.

Only me…

I’ll Save Your Place

The doors and windows are open wide and welcome

The wind as it blows through my house and my soul.

It brings a beingness of light and truth, peace and love, disguised as wind.

Trees sway in its beauty,

Souls sing in harmony with its truth and

The unconscious void is filled with its one love.

I know that the empty void from my past existed only in my mind.

My mind was deluded and swayed by the ways of the world but now,

I am neither of the world nor in the world as

The world is in me and you and you and you…

There is no separateness in our beings but great diversity in our humanness,

As it should be, as it was meant to be. The contrast is beautiful.

“Between the silence of the mountains and the crashing of the sea, there lives a land I once lived in and he’s waiting there for me” Moody Blues

So… will you meet me there, in the silence of the mountains, in the void of fullness, in a world of our own making

Where the wind blows its truth into our souls

And surrounds our hearts with love?

If I get there first, I’ll save your place.

Will you do the same for me?