I am so blessed and thankful to have this new room in my house! I had an old screened porch redone into my writing/meditation space. I just love it, could sit here forever and probably will!
Category: poetry
I Will Make You Soup
I will make you soup, my Lord and
Fill it with the spices of life so that you may taste the wonders you have given to me.
There will be salt for truth and
Pepper for hurt.
Sugar for love and
Bitters for sadness.
Potatoes will let you taste the flavor of the earth and
Beets, the warmth of the soil.
Carrots will spill out their liquid orange sunshine for your pleasure and
Savory herbs will add flavor to surprise your taste buds with every sip.
My delight in the life you have given me makes me what to give back to you so,
I will make you soup, my Lord
And I will stir it with love.
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.
This Moment (a favorite and re-post from 2015)
This moment, this one
Precious moment.
Like no other,
Only you and me.
At this second, no one
And nothing else matters.
All sound is blocked from my mind,
All I can hear is your voice.
My eyes can focus only on you; my body feels only your touch,
All else fades away.
My soul fills with your presence
Your strength and your love. Nothing can compare.
In this moment, we are all that exists,
We have no need for anything else.
Space shrinks to the size of your room
And the universe is contained in the pupils of your eyes.
The eternal truth resides in your touch and
I can hear the harmony of the heavens in your sighs.
In this moment we are aware and know that there is no heaven
No hell, no past, no future,
Just now, just you, just me.
Timeless, all consuming, beautiful and right.
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…
Dew
In an Early spring meadow
Tree skeletons stand stark,
Silhouetted in the fog.
The meadow’s undulating waves of grass,
Appear and disappear in the mist.
A familiar landscape,
Changed only by drops of dew.
Our Doing (a brief thought on climate change)
Their innocence betrayed them,
But it is our doing.
They had no reason to question.
Their ways were always the same, same today as yesterday
Dependable for tomorrow.
But now something is different.
It is a difference not of their making.
A difference perplexing and dangerous, one they don’t understand.
The snow pack is less, shallower than before,
Easier for owls to penetrate.
Easier for winter cold to penetrate.
So now they freeze or are eaten.
Some starve as there is less food to sustain them.
This past summer was too hot and too dry to produce the food they need.
Being white in the winter is no longer a defense.
The hours of sunlight signal their bodies when to change the color of their fur.
But the shorter winters haven’t caught up and
They are now like sitting ducks, white in a world of early spring brown.
The changes aren’t fair.
They notice but their innocence fogs their thoughts.
They don’t know it is our doing but we do… or should.
We have failed them,
And they, the innocent ones,
Continue to suffer.
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.
