I wrote this poem at a time when I felt disconnected from self, felt a little burned-out and was grieving the loss of self-care!
There is always the urge of spirit within us that calls to us…to come home, to be happy and to be well!
Imagine a Woman, Seeking…
Where is she gone, where is she, where
Where is the witch who gathers and spins mystery?
Where is the dancer who hums and sings with abandonment?
Where is the homemaker, who crafts, bakes, cleans
Where is the lover who seduces in comfort and instinctually grins?
Where is she who lived in tune with the wind, trees, rain and fire?
Spiderwoman, owl feather, dreamer of dreams
Worshipper of the moon, prowler of the flower and herb garden
She who meditates with the mother, the daughter of spirit
Mother, grandmother, daughter, wife, friend – oh where is she gone?
She has left, she is not here.
Now she sits and wonders, how did this happen?
Spaced out, removed, old, dry, barren, empty, fat, careless, and anxious, restricted by rules and regulations, lonely, tormented, disturbed, dissatisfied, and tired.
Tired mind, tired body, stiff bones, no soul.
She can’t be gone, is she, is she really, she can’t be gone, she can’t be.
She breathes – ah – there is still life, faint life – ah,
Breathe that curls around embers of excitement – no glow yet
Breathe that wraps up hope – unable to lift it
Breathe that sinks down and comes up empty – nothing ignites yet
A will unable to function, to support – chaos over rules at this time
A longing for what was –sorrow for what is – emptiness, a vacuum
A vagrant woman walks the earth, looking for dragonflies and bees to make honey.
Who is she, who was she, onetime.
Is she a ghost, a silhouette of her past, has she a future, is she present
She breathes – ah – she breathes, who knows.
An ancient being stirs, breathes, knowing, seer of what is coming
Smell of sage, she sneezes, yawns, stretches
A candle in a window flickers, a shadow passes by,
Two grey haired women meet and kiss, replaced by two crows
A soul sings a lullaby – shush, hush, she is here.
– By Christine
I wrote this poem as part of my grieving process for my beloved father who died July 2015.
Honouring him…
Like an old oak tree
Solid, stubborn and set,
An eagle with honour and insight
A raspberry briar, cruel and sweet
Raw, honest and committed.
A horse tamed by hard labour, holding longings of the wild west.
A shyness, a shrewdness, a responsible man of earth
A son, a lover, a father and more
Man of the land, spirit of the skies
Winged being of heavens in flight
Watch over me day and night, and rest in peace forever
My sweetheart.
– Written by Christine
