Journey of the Heart

  Thornton Wilder said, "There's the land of the living and the land of the dead and the bridge between them is love." I wrote this poem after a beautiful weekend of yoga teacher training in September 2012. Following a morning meditation. I was stunned by the contrast between my traumatic childhood beginning at age 5 with paralytic polio and childhood sexual, physical and emotional abuse with my amazing life overflowing with unconditional love, kindness and compassion.  This poem is part of a collection, "Songs of Freedom: Poems From a Healing Odyssey Volume II" which will be out later this year. The Bridge Restlessness filled my cells in the dark quiet of the night transported to another time and place to remember loneliness coldness numbness a black and white photo a snapshot knowing even then I was separate from the walking dead. Yet I was separate from the living a wandering stranger wondering would I e

I write from pure emotion... ...and I prefer not to describe my poetry, but to allow it to be interpreted on a personal level with the reader.  "Elise is a multi-media visual artist who fuses her own original musical compositions with voice recitations of her own enchanting poetry and moving visual imagery, to offer us a very unique experience of her heart's outpours. The following are two poems from her 'Sacred Realm' collection. Treat yourself to one of her creations by clicking the play button below."  Artwork by Reine (2009) (To hear Elise recite her poems 'Yet Wilder' and "Pledge' click on play button) Yet Wilder Shalt thou remember me? Shalt we walk the eternity of our dreams? Is it not the truth that we have sought the same redemption? Is it not the given hand of light that binds our souls? * You do not wish to call me. You do not wish to see the veil that lay between us. I

This poem was written in honor of Reverend Cynthia Bourgeault, Episcopal priest and mystic… On the last day of a week-long Wisdom School with Cynthia in Valle Crucis, North Carolina, we celebrated the Eucharist in an apple barn. Our time in Wisdom School was modeled after the Benedictine Monastic order, and we spent our days praying and working alone and together and honoring the sacred silence in the evenings. The retreat center at Valle Crucis was formerly the very first Anglican monastery in the United States. At Her Eucharist

 Her grey rugged clothes and navy cap 
Invite me into priestly authenticity.
 There are no robes here tonight
 No stained glass or pews. 
Just a dimly lit red barn at the bottom of a hill, 
A circle of chairs framing a small wooden table
 Set with bread and wine, body and blood. 
A drum and singing bowl, small bouquet of flowers.

 Her hardened hands circle the cup
 Calling me to this gift
 Asking me to be emptied,

In this poem, I tried to express the things that sometimes happen in my heart… …when I sit in kirtan, or when I hear the Song of the Lord, the Bhagavad Gita, or other sacred texts being read and discussed, especially when I have the privilege to sit and hear my Guru  - or sometimes even when I hear a very skilled secular singer singing "ordinary" songs with all of their heart and soul.  This poem is also me trying to articulate my desire to surrender to the song of God being played all the time in this universe, and also admitting that there are parts of me that resist this surrender at the same time. FOR A SONG For a moment, for a song and a sampling of eternity I had a nest there, in the folds of timeless time in the heartbeat of the Alive a place so soft that it felt like a warm welcome after a million goodbyes a return a coming to something profoundly good. Something so true that it could offer me an

During a rainy day at a World Peace ceremony community event... ... at Kew Beach garden in Toronto this past summer, folks from all walks life collectively offered prayers for peace to every corner of the world.  I was sitting with two friends who were visiting from Indonesia when a simple but powerful gaze of someone's eyes reminded me of our eternal abode.  With heart opened, senses heightened, spirit and nature danced together wildly within, "I see You" was born.   I see You in the wise counsel of the elders in the innocence of little children and street wisdom of the youths in the sweet embrace and playful exchange of dear friends in the warm sunshine touching my skin in the soft Summer breeze playing with my long hair in every step of Life's ecstatic dance in each gamelan tune and echo of the gongs in the dewy grass and crisp white sand I danced on this morning in the wispy wild flowers swaying gracefully in t