Skip to main content

"TWO SISTERS" by Cheryl Anne

John O'Donohue, the late Irish poet, philosopher, and former Catholic priest...

...taught that we should welcome, embrace, even protect and celebrate our contradictions. As I seem to be full of them, I have found his teachings on the subject to be incredibly healing and liberating. The following piece of writing is an exercise in making peace with some of my seeming contradictions; a celebration of the complexity of the human soul. 

"Two Sisters"
by Cheryl Anne

I dance.
I pray.
My dance is prayer.
My prayer dances its way to Heaven.
I sing.
I am silent.
My song is woven with passionate pauses.
My silence is the deepest song of my soul.
I am pure and chaste.
I am wanton and wild.
In chastity, I give myself to all the world.
In wildness, I am virgin, belonging only to myself.
I am nun.
I am gypsy.
My cloister is the greenwood.
My caravan is an oaken pew.
I am these Two Sisters.
I am One Woman; whole, complete.
Photograph of Sophia Sundari

Cheryl Anne: As a very young girl, I discovered the magic of turning my observations and swirling thoughts and feelings into poems and songs. The love of language; spoken, sung, and written, and also the silent language of presence, has remained through all life's twists and turns. I am a lover and celebrant of the elements and seasons of the Heart and Soul, of Earth and Spirit; finding All Life to be sacred. I deeply enjoy the privilege of sharing my life with three beloved children and a few more than three beloved friends. Presently I work in the field of in-home elder care and companioning. My greatest joy is found in being with those I so dearly love, and in the embrace and beauty of Nature. 


~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!~

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

  This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather

IMBOLC by Caroline Mellor

The inspiration for this poem came after I watched a magical winter sunset and full moonrise from the top of Firle Beacon in the South Downs... Unusually for me, I wrote the poem quite quickly and changed it very little before publishing it – perhaps the energies were working through my pen! Imbolc is the mid-point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It’s a fire festival which I particularly love because of its associations with Brigid, the Celtic Mother Goddess of arts and crafts, clear sight, healing, inspiration and nurturance of creative talents – something which, through my writing, I am always trying to connect with.  I also love Imbolc because, with so much darkness and negativity in the world today, it is a time for hope, potential, visioning and initiation. With love and blessings as the light returns. Photography by Chanel Baran IMBOLC    by Caroline Mellor I am the dream of awakening. I am the returning of the night.  I am the tough green

WINTER SOLSTICE: A GIFT OF LOVE by Carolyn Riker

I’ve had several days now of alone time… It is unusual and a gift that I couldn’t see until I breathed it. I have been able to watch the sun’s rise through the grey of dawn and smile at the flickers of frost melting on the waving boughs of evergreen. It’s unique to follow daylight as it traverses the tempo of a cat’s soft slumbering purr. Night comes swifter and the glow of candles and the flames of fire comfort me more than the steady stream of always-doing-more. As much as I resisted, I needed this break. I had no idea how much my body was trying to tell me   slow down   until the exhaustion settled in around my joints. My eyes swam in molasses. Heaviness of I-can’t-hold-out-much-long, walked me to the throne of my nest. It’s winter’s gift of self-nurturing and love. It’s been a quiet proclamation of femininity and a need for comfort foods. Lemon crisps and cranberry, white-chocolate shortbread dipped in tea; I felt a hint of being pampered without