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RESURRECTION by Tamara Fairbanks-Ishmael

This poem came to me starting with the phrase, “Something in me sighs,” and it compelled me to sit down and see where it wanted to go..

 It turned out to be a story of spiritual journey.  First, a quiet longing that gets stronger, until it lays one bare.  Alongside that, the expression of grief over loss... whether a person, an ability, an opportunity, an expectation.  Allowing the grief to wash through until nothing is left, starting from bone.  The burning of heart-purpose starting as a pinprick of light, then growing so powerful that the old story of who you were is unrecognizable in the new landscape of who you are becoming.  It is a poem about surrendering to one’s own heart wisdom, rising from the ashes, and rebirthing the Self.

Photography by Katharina Jung
 Resurrection

by Tamara Fairbanks-Ishmael


Something in me sighs.
A small voice,
A whisper of breeze, gently lifting hair,
hesitant, playful, grasses swaying.
Then, picking up force –
A gust knocks the birdhouse from the tree
as its branches dance fervent hallelujahs against the sky.
Gaining confidence, it becomes a gale,
howling, finding the cracks in the cabin chinking.
The earth is lifted as dust,
blowing, blasting, seeking,
stripping away layer by layer.
The landscape is scoured bare, a polish on each stone.
The Wind will not be silenced.
Nothing left but bone.

• ~ ~ ~ •

Something in me cries.
Welling up, spilling over,
The first drops hop merrily on the sidewalk,
abstract blots of dark.
Dirt turns to mud, saturated.
Then, bubbling, seeping through the cracks,
Running, swirling in eddies in the low spots.
The carefully tended garden
is swept away.
A torrent crashes on rocks
and rapids rage.
The battered birdhouse bobs downstream,
receding in the distance.
The landscape is broken, spent, alone.
The River will not be stilled.
Nothing left but bone.

• ~ ~ ~ •

Something in me burns.
A pinprick of light, a bit of stardust glitter
in the center of my heart.
First, cold as space.
The bud flickers, glows, smolders.
Seeking the air through the cracks,
         gasping, growing,
bursting into a flower with petals of fire.
It pulsates with passionate purpose,
its blaze insatiable –
The sparks fly as it crawls, darts, explodes, roars,
         Snacking on curtains,
gorging on furniture.
The cabin walls become coals, crumbling.
It advances, consuming illusion,
devouring flesh.
The charred landscape smokes,
a smudge offering, a moan.
The flame will not be extinguished.
Nothing left but bone.

• ~ ~ ~ •

Nothing left but bone.
…and these things:
Blackened ash
A drop of water
A breath of air
And the stirring
of wings.



Tamara Fairbanks-Ishmael is the owner of Good Earth Gatherings, a shop and Learning Center near Lawrence, Kansas.  She is a former professional speaker and English/Drama teacher with a Masters degree in Liberal Arts.  Tamara has passion for learning and teaching, and she has taught classes to people ranging from junior high students to company CEOs.  Her classes are outgrowths of her interests and ongoing learning, which include Home Herbalism, Earth wisdom, women’s spirituality, creativity and healthy living.








~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~ 

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