spirit – Rivers Renewed

Deep Rivers

When our rivers run deeper, do we allow

our phrases, locked in secret places,

a place to roam, to meander

giving them permission

to flow?

through us, letting them go?

write from your heart.

Whispers of the Winter Wind

In the whispers of the winter wind, an early snowfall in the night,

our blue dawn revealing pine trees

embracing the beauty.

Note: I’ve been dreaming about snow lately.

Autumn Healing

Healing descends in my long walks through the forest now,

leaves falling, twirling

taking my breath away as I realize the simplicity

of healing,

the reality

of what love can do.

Walking in the Mountains

As the trail opened up on top of the ridge, I was surprised by the brightness of the sun. Wildflowers in the tall grass moved gently in the wind.

I marveled at my spirit being at rest once again, and I was lifted into a space…..I had always wanted to discover.

Prayer Poems

On some days there are prayer poems dancing, maneuvering within my being,

and I can only hold them until the midday sun, giving them wings,

letting them go, watching them spin ascending

into that space between earth and sky

into the air unfettered

they fly.

Particles of Water

Particles of water shimmering, illuminated by the sun. And for a few brief moments, my spirit drifts and I am in between this world and the other, somewhere in the wind.

There is no pain here, and I realize we hold on too much, instead of letting go. So, I close my eyes as in a prayer and breathe again, still having few answers, yet able to have my feet back on earth, planted in the beauty remaining.

As if Sunlight Sparkles

Memories of our most sacred moments will often find their way,

drifting,

into our hearts

within our void seeking,

as if sunlight sparkles

on the surface of the lake

filtering,

through the deep.

I wonder

if we are more than water

searching, moving towards the shore,

a magnificent spirit,

washing the Earth.

It is the light,

that moves us beyond

the pain,

into the new hope shifting

taking shape

within us.

The Scent of Water and Trees

There is a warm breeze now, slowly pushing its way over the lake,

holding a scent of water and trees, coming to rest

on my face. I look up seeking the revelation of sky in my life

never ending yet within my soul, I reach

for the pen that’s filling itself once again.

I marvel at words, trying not to gasp

holding the photograph

in my mind, I begin again

to write.

As My Spirit Drifts

As my spirit drifts in meditation, the silence of the sun

reflecting, I can see now as the wordflow shifts

and takes shape

from so much peace

enfolding.

Writing of the Wind

Writing of rivers he knew so well, yet writing of the wind, who can say? Who can describe the clouds

above our ruins? His hawk knew the way, speaking of peace carried on wingtips

yet a stronger wing does not always lift the wordflow….

he simply prayed, and his pen

wrote the fire.

Tag: spirit