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AT THE MOMENT OF EQUINOX by Penn Kemp

AT THE MOMENT OF EQUINOX


I enter the garden, the ground
still held by winter, spring
almost released. I stand
at the centre into which all
flow, from which all emerge. Wind in the upper birch stills.
The garden’s breath is so long
it is immeasurable. But I wait,
offering awareness as witness. Pivoting, I pray. North, grant us
your clarity and strength. West,
your surrender and acceptance.
South, your joy and creativity. East, your initiation, inspiration.
Sky, your broad view. Earth,
your ground, your holy round. The moment is held in a bowl
beyond comprehension, beyond
belief. May we carry balance lightly on each step of the way
till it recurs six months off. May
we find a way to become whole. May the earth find her stability.
May the equanimity of equinox
be yours, be ours, be hers all ways
belief in beyond. *   *   * (This poem is from the author's upcoming book Fox Haunts, available here.
Penn Kemp--poet, performer and playwright--has been active in Canada’s literary scene since her first publication of…
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SACRED FOOTPRINTS by Rhea Ruth Aitken

There are days when I feel so very connected to the beautiful and brave women that have walked this earth journey before me. 

It leaves me sometimes feeling insignificant in their wake and other times inspired to make more of a difference, to step up to their lead. I feel their fears and achievements pulsing beneath my feet, touching my heart. I envision their faces and embrace their lives just for the slightest and most profound moment and always am left with the knowledge we are spiritualsisters, always leaving our sacred footprints for others to find. 




SACRED FOOTPRINTS

I stand in the footprints Of so many women My soft sole flesh The perfect fit My step the perfect space between.                                I fit in all of them Some with such sweet comfort Some with the echoes Of a long-ago fear. I feel them all These other women I did not know Whose feet touched the earth And left their patterns For me to colour in Their words for me to silently read Their tears for me  To pick up from the floor …

I AM STILL HERE by Janavi Held

EDITOR'S NOTE:

This was composed by a very gifted and beautiful soul: a regular contributor to our poetry project, and dear friend of mine, Janavi Held, whose life is gradually being taken from us by an incurable illness. She has been suffering from Complex Regional Pain Syndrome and Internal Adhesions for six painful years now, and neither her insurance nor the government healthcare will help her. She reaches out to us, her sisters, as a last plea. This is a poem she wrote yesterday on her birthday, in which she offers us the gift of her friendship. May it touch your generous hearts and inspire you to reach out to her in her plight.


Dear Friends,

The last time I was able to leave the house was by ambulance on my way to the hospital. After many long hours in the emergency room I was admitted and taken upstairs. After everyone left I sat on the hospital bed, knees to chest, bracing my body against the pain and trembling.

The light of this cold day was fading. I turned my eyes to the la…

YIELD by Tammy Stone Takahashi

My new poetry book came into being during a period of great (and ongoing!) transition in my life, both material/physical and spiritual: my husband and I, after three years of traveling around Southeast Asia and India, and then five years of living in Japan, my husband’s home country, are in the midst of a move back West, to Canada. I left home in my mid-thirties; nearly a decade later, I am slowly entering a new phase of life altogether, one that has me reflecting on my identity: as a woman, as a writer, and as a conscious citizen of this amazing, struggling planet of ours.
I have to admit, I had a number of other writing projects on the go, including another book of poetry! But every time I sat down to write, these were the poems that flowed out of me. These were the words that needed to be conceived, expressed, and ultimately, birthed into this collection. The title came to me immediately; as a long-time traveller/wanderer and someone currently living in two different countries on op…

IN ABBA'S HOUSE by Cheryl Anne

Though I attended Catholic school as a child, and have spent most of my life in circles and services wherein the Divine is presented and spoken of primarily as "Father"; and I have prayed what is probably the most recognizable prayer of Christianity; The Lord's Prayer, also known as the "Our Father", thousands of times; I honestly don't know that I have ever felt a genuine closeness with a fatherly presence of the Divine. 

My natural inclination (in the sense of the Masculine) has always been toward the Presence of Christ, as Lover/Beloved, Brother, and Friend. I also naturally strongly sense and engage Feminine Spiritual Presence. This has at times made navigating Christian community rather challenging. The following piece was written many years ago, at a time of such struggle; feeling estranged from the notion of God as Father. 

IN ABBA'S HOUSE
In Abba’s House there are many rooms~ the oft-told mansions in the sky, love-lit and inviting; this abode, this abo…

EVERLASTING by Ann Christine Tabaka

Everlasting

Oh so many years ago As I walked upon this land I did witness many wonders Wonders countless as the sand

For I am an ancient soul I transcend both time and space It has been many eons Since I came upon this place

The stars above are family I wear the night as my cloak I roamed this planet since its dawn Before man ever spoke

The forests are my castle The mountains are my throne Where I oversee the oceans From which all life has grown

My words have painted pictures  In the minds of those who heard My voice gives flight to dreams That soar high as a bird

There are angels in my future There were dragons in my past Many worlds will spring forth and die Before I leave this life at last

I swam with creatures of the deep And to the moon I gave birth Within your hearts you know me I am the spirit of the Earth

Ann Christine Tabaka has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize in Poetry, has been internationally published, and won poetry awards from publications. She lives in Delaware, USA.  She loves gardening and…

THE TRUTH ABOUT...CHILDREN by Cécile Correa

THE TRUTH ABOUT… CHILDREN


When your tree is fortunate enough to bear fruit,  your labor does not cease once you have delivered  those sweet lives into this world.
At that moment, you are assigned to lead your brood not just through their stages of growth but way beyond, as your labor only ends with the end of your life
But while they mature under your caring love,  they must bite into the sweetness of your own existence  so theirs can be whole, to appreciate the juiciness of life, 
And while their roots must grow under your care,  the pot you nestled them in their first days  must be removed so they can grow without limitation.
Allow them to explore the wild and the soil of life, and while you continue to guide them into the wilderness do not let them fall into the traps you once fell into,
Those deep holes where you have encountered  the hostile darkness and lingering bitterness  that robbed you too soon of your juvenile spirit.  
Become instead the guardian of their rawness  and their innocent thirst f…