Winter Morning Musing

From the archives, written in 2004

I stare through frosted pane

while winter cold memories disturb

the precious, present moment;

I am brooding on a life unwound

that intensifies inward sensation and sentiment

and I burst into flames of feeling

then wisp and spiral like a smoky ghost.

I question and defy the demon doubt,

wrestle and wrench my will to love

from the dark void of fear.

I hear the small voice that whispers

persistently and quietly

the words of the Goddess Mother;

Daughter, you are beloved.

Be at peace.




Lakota Prayer

Great Mystery,

teach me how to trust

my heart,

my mind,

my intuition,

my inner knowing,

the senses of my body,

the blessings of my spirit.

Teach me to trust these things

so that I may enter my Sacred Space

and love beyond my fear

and thus Walk in Balance

with the passing of each glorious sun.

Night arrives, dark, damp, cold

and the full Harvest Moon

is just hours ahead. I meditate,

driven to create order out of the chaos

that is humanity with mere words

and at times and I long for the transition,

To pass through the veil between the worlds.

love still prevails, it is not for me to control

but to let go. What I leave behind

will make a difference, that is my hope

and I am not done yet, just growing older.

Lovers, friends, husbands and wives

Sisters, brothers so many lives;

Isn’t it amazing that the moment of birth

is a miracle and that death is close behind?

For what is time, what are years

but the blink of an eye when we are realized,

when we see the purpose of our lives

is to love and be loved?

Quote of the Day

“I am not what has happened to me.

I am what I choose to become.”

Carl Jung

Summer evening beckons

and birds sing their twilight songs;

shadows lengthen gracefully

as the sun descends to kiss the horizon;

sweet warm breeze, a flowered fragrance

becomes cool caress of angel’s breath

and lofty trees stand benevolent, ageless,

while playful squirrels chatter in their branches;

Fragrant moss carpets the moist earth

and the enchanting dusk lingers,

yields to night.

Poem of the Day

I have been aware of May Sarton’s work for years, but this morning I discovered this one, which I will put on my favorite poems list.

Now I Become Myself

by May Sarton

Now I become myself. It’s taken
Time, many years and places;
I have been dissolved and shaken,
Worn other people’s faces,
Run madly, as if Time were there,
Terribly old, crying a warning,
‘Hurry, you will be dead before-‘
(What? Before you reach the morning?
Or the end of the poem is clear?
Or love safe in the walled city?)
Now to stand still, to be here,
Feel my own weight and density!
The black shadow on the paper
Is my hand; the shadow of a word
As thought shapes the shaper
Falls heavy on the page, is heard.
All fuses now, falls into place
From wish to action, word to silence,
My work, my love, my time, my face
Gathered into one intense
Gesture of growing like a plant.
As slowly as the ripening fruit
Fertile, detached, and always spent,
Falls but does not exhaust the root,
So all the poem is, can give,
Grows in me to become the song,
Made so and rooted by love.
Now there is time and Time is young.
O, in this single hour I live
All of myself and do not move.
I, the pursued, who madly ran,
Stand still, stand still, and stop the sun!

Thought for the Day

“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.”

Edith Wharton –

%d bloggers like this: