Journey of the Heart

  Turning has become, in some contexts, something of a taboo… The “U-Turn” in politics, for example. Margaret Thatcher (the controversial British Prime Minister who was in power primarily during the 1980s) said, “You turn if you want to; the lady’s not for turning” and this became one of her most famous and lauded phrases. In many religious contexts, too, there’s a view that if a person changes their beliefs, or moves away from what they used to believe, they’re somehow “losing faith” or “backsliding”... I wonder why this is. Life is full of twists and turns and meanderings. Sometimes, we turn because we got it wrong and we realize that we need to make amends or take a different tack. Sometimes, we turn because what was right before is no longer for the best, or because experience has shed a  new and different light on things. Sometimes, we turn simply as the Earth turns - to keep going, to maintain balance. I think it’s good to turn. It’s not a sign of we...

A train that passes through my town, seldom seen but often heard, inspired this poem... My life is revealed in the metaphor of the train with heavy cargo passing by. Often I speak of the past as it informs my present life and hopes for the future. Though the path is often dark, there is the light at the end of the tunnel I am always traveling toward. Ghost Train by  Julia W. Prentice I hear the ghost train whistle Echoing through the past Its lonesome wail encompasses The heartfelt doom inside Left overs from the shredded history Known as my story, my undoing See the indelible marks ride on Stains of guilt and shame For things both done and undone Stains no bleach of regret removes Marks unforgiving and of unforgiveness So the train thunders on Tracks are rusty from the tears Fallen in the ashy dust of long ago… Does the engine ever cease? Cargo of loneliness and fear Anxiety and deepest sadness Carried on forever Car...

This poem was the result of a writing prompt… The week this poem was created, I had joined an online writing group in hopes of learning to be more vulnerable with my art, becoming a bit more courageous in sharing it. It was such a beautiful group of ladies!  They held space for everyone in such a way that we all felt safe and loved. It was the opportunity I needed to really open up and allow myself to be seen. It was truly a life-changer. I am so grateful for the experience, and this poem was a huge part of that. Houses of the Holy by Jamie Burgess I have birthed ecstasy and new life from the darkness between my hips. I have nurtured tiny, beautiful humans with these bones housed within. They carry my weight, as well as my burdens, quietly absorbing all of my secrets. They have danced me up out of the ashes, supported my every move, and breath, and dream. Strength and sinew, they have proven their ability to e...

This poem, like many I write, is inspired by a particular kind of confusion that has no obvious limits, and no markers pointing the way to resolution... It’s that big, cloudy feeling that permeates everything while remaining hidden and mysterious. The desire to have answers is a fickle one, and it’s not often rewarded. Nor need it be … but we can always imagine (what a creative act, imagination!), and here, I try to come to terms with “origins” – what is at the beginning and what is at the end, and are they the same? If what we are looking for is outside time, then our search (which takes place “in time”) is fascinating! Origins by Tammy T. Stone let’s work backwards, to get where are, which is where we long to be, so we can build ourselves up again (how often we need to build ourselves up again, after a fall, how shattered the heart). Let’s start with that place on the other side of   memory, where we find bliss, which is pure joy, ba...

My life seems to be a never-ending question… A never-ending question as  endless, immense, immeasurable as the ocean. Forever the questions remain. For now I will sit in the sound of the sea and listen. Listen for an  answer that will set me free. The answer only a question away. The Ocean Within by Kim Buskala I repeat the Motion of the ocean Over and over The waves keep coming The tides do change Highs and lows I try to allow Myself to enter The flow At times my movements Are so big as the crest of a wave I crash I fall I smash against I land Only to roll A gentle roll On a calm day Windless Barely moving As if to stand still I breathe in that moment The still in the movement Only to know Winds will carry Me away Waves will grow I may need to hide Behind barricades That protect the windows Of my soul Eyes void of thought Questions answered When the time comes What really matters? Lost ...

This morning I saw me. All of me… It happened when I went to have a shower and took my clothes off; I noticed myself. I saw my body for the first time in a very long time. In that moment I felt an unknown sensation running through my whole being. Acceptance? Joy? Maybe even love? For who I am?   How long have my body and soul waited for this... one moment….of Clarity. Beautiful by Ulli Stanway Today I saw me With all there is And all there is not The perfect little imperfections All of me And I smiled softly At this image in the mirror Today I saw beyond the mirror I took a dive into the depth of me I am so much more than thighs with cellulite And an ever gently bulging abdomen I spent years trying to be this perfect thing For others who truly did not even care I tried to copy red lips and make up I hid behind designer clothes And expensive creams I took ice cold showers to rid myself of nature’s choices I criticized many ...