Inspired

Inspired by two young women 

who at less than half my age 

already understand and articulate 

twice as much wisdom and knowledge

of the heart, 

and how we are all connected – 

or not —

to our own pain 

and the pain of others, 

to our goodness 

and the goodness of others, 

to the spirit within 

and to and from and back 

to us. 

Inspired by two young women 

whose words of poetry 

flow like song, 

assuring me, 

and starting somehow 

the continuing process 

of my own healing.

Even at more than twice their age. 

I take still small steps 

and gently peek beyond 

the curtain of my soul, 

once again daring

to look deep 

and connect — with 

God, 

self, 

and others;

allowing my pain to be expressed, 

knowing the peace that comes

with letting go and opening up

to be 

inspired by God.

© Anne Cressin, 2014

Jona Noelle and Flora Lark
"The Fire Tigers"

Praise Song

I praise the West Wind that blows down off the mountain

Whipping up waves and currents

On our back yard lake.

I praise the Sun as he reflects and shimmers

Bright diamonds moving across the water.

I praise the weeping willow as she

Waves her hair wildly in the wind

While the perfume scents of the blooming trees     

And flowers waft our way.

I praise the Seasons – turning on the wheel of time –

Each becoming more precious the longer I walk

This earthly journey.

Though darkness gathers and day draws to a close,

I Thank the Sun setting in all his revelry and

Bless the promise of another sunrise yet to come.

© Diane Harner, 2014

Sunset
Photo by NOAA from Wikimedia Commons

If Only They Knew

Who are we to think that we’re any more alive than the stars,

Who spend their days burning, exploding, screaming their innermost selves to one another across the mute emptiness of day to day void,

Livers of a continuous present,

Residents of an oceanic nothingness with the bigness to hold them, now and forevermore, face to face in an unyielding embrace,

Dancers of a billion years’ dance,

Runners of an eternal race,

Giving birth with their final act of death,

Legions of celestial mothers patrolling heavenly haunts?

And we, spectral sparks cast carelessly from the surface of our tumbling ember,

Have the audacity to name them.

© Axel Cooper, 2014

Van Gogh's The Starry Night
from Wikimedia Commons