Poems and Phantasms

Posts tagged ‘grief’

Scatter Kind Words

Scatter kind words like seeds

to the four corners of the earth

to the wind and sky

to hell and back, where

they are needed most

they will find their way

 

As the tiniest light

shines the greatest good

in the blackest night, so too

the kind word roots

deepest in the heart

rich with grief

abundant with gratitude

Advertisements

“The Invitation” ~Oriah Mountain Dreamer

“Path to the summit of Mangere Mountain in Manukau City, New Zealand” Ingolfson, 2008. (Public Domain)

The Invitation by Oriah
It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon…
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.

By Oriah © Mountain Dreaming,
from the book The Invitation
published by HarperONE, San Francisco,
1999 All rights reserved

Little Girls Still Missing

“Keeping Dry”, 1889. Artist uncredited. (Public Domain)

Little girls not found, but

never forgotten. Your friends

grieve fast. Your parents

gone mad with

remembering.

 

Into the darkness

taken. Into the light

our secret prayer

unless a miracle.

Unless,

the hope.

 

Come to the Forest to Visit Me

“Westonbirt Arboretum – Avenue of trees” Stuz (CC A-S A 3.0)

 

Come to the forest to visit me

Down by the roots of a tree

Waste not your tears on cold stone graves

Water a flower for me

 

Give me to the earth when my winter comes

Bury me deep in the ground

Mark not my place with statues or caves

Find me where life can be found

 

Come to the woods when autumn leaves turn

Golden and copper and red

Rustle up memories, seeds of joy stored

Kick up the leaves in my stead

 

Visit a garden on warm, summer days

Keep company with blossoms and bees

Remember my heart blooms forever in yours

Take comfort from shushing shade trees

 

Let springtime surround you with life and the living

Birdsong and budding green leaves

Look up at the sky, give thanks for sun and rain

When you think of me, smile more than grieve

 

Come to the forest to visit me

Down by the roots of a tree

Live every day that is given to you

Water a new flower for me

Does it help?

 

We kept vigil with you when we heard

For who could sleep with heart shards in the air?

The static explodes, screaming for your silenced ones

 

Unfamiliar names, unfinished stories

Reckoned into the past unwillingly

 

We imagine your pain

We count our blessings

We say we want answers, revenge or justice

But what is there to hold onto except grief and forgiveness?

 

Every belief a banshee, we try to pray with you

Cursing and beseeching the world and its gods

Does it help?

Tag Cloud