If Only

I thought I was through
the grief, the loss, the longing.
I guess it comes in stages
o'er and o'er again.

How many times must I cross this bridge?

I cannot seem to stop
this river's rise and swell.
A life its own, it spills over.
My soul once again overwhelmed
with sorrow, grief, tears of deep remorse.

I wish I had a dam
to somehow contain the swell.
But I don't
So I guess I'll let it spill.

march 10, 2007
~me

***

So much grief after leaving a "family" one's known for almost 3 decades.
So much grief even in reunions with past parted loved ones from the time in the family, reunions that occur after leaving the family, reunions that are joyful...yet bittersweet.
The grief needs to be honored; otherwise it might fester.
Festers are not healthy.
***

Imprint

You call me...

tribal voice within
quieter than breath
awakening my essence

You coax me...

song i can't resist
luring me
with whistles on the wind

You envelop me...

beauty to behold
entwining melodies
embroidery within my soul

Is this the muse?
This tribal voice?
This heartfelt cry?
This whispering force?

With open face and open heart
I hear, I taste, I feel...
Vibrations of creation
No longer can lie still...

Humbly I acquiesce
Spirit's imprinted symphony...
Rhythmic ancestral echo
Tunes every cell in harmony...

Beckoning I surrender
With honor and a dance...
My heart glides in joyful unison
The triumphant shout of "YES!"

april, 2007
judithpiper
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In my true believer days, the word "muse" was a dirty word...one that opened the mind to devil spirit possession. We were not to follow our hearts because the heart was deceptive above all else and exceedingly corrupt. Intuition was stunted, creativity stifled.

It may seem a small thing to some people, but for me to utilize the word "muse" was a big step toward freedom. Freedom...what an elusive thing...so many definitions, so many interpretations.
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