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Showing posts from May, 2018

IN ABBA'S HOUSE by Cheryl Anne

T hough 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 invi

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 i


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.  


As women we have a special story to tell... It is a story that binds us together  through our inherent nature as Life Givers, Lovers  and Nurturers.  Like our Great Mother Earth, we have the innate pull to create  and re-create, give birth and make anew what needs to be  re-born from the ashes of pain or destruction. Everything we  generate in this world in all areas of our lives flows from this  place of knowing that our essential tendency is to love, protect,  nurture and give of ourselves for the sake of others, for the sake  of life itself. I've found that each of our stories live not in the messiness of events or people who love or hurt us, but in the meaning we give to those encounter... Having only discovered in 2011 that I can write in this way,  Archaeology for the Woman's Soul was born in the aftermath  of claiming my freedom once more in my life. But something  was different: There was no anger left in me, no judgment,  no regrets. Claiming my freedom this t

FOR TARA by Penn Kemp

FOR TARA * Goddess of Compassion and Wisdom, I need to recall,  reclaim you, invite you to return to my heart. Come back  to my heart, Love, where you are home. There’s room.  There is room enough for two, for multitudes. For you.  Become me, I beg you. Worry my concern into peace.  Shake this rag doll out of stiff contrition back to joy.  Till bones, blood, marrow, mind all leap up to dance,  to expand and mingle with the greater Presence, gift  we are heir to if we remember to remember the Whole.  The whole that made us, not that hole I fall into.  From her celestial seat in the Pure Land, Tara smiles, extending a hand of pure blessing, her invitation. Up. Penn Kemp --poet, performer and playwright-- has been active in Canada’s literary scene since her first publication of poetry,  Bearing Down , by Coach House (1972). As well as editing Canada’s first anthology of women’s  writing,  IS 14  (1973), many of her books have been devoted to


The Radiance of Change * As the currents of my being become more fully free, more often I have prolonged  moments of dropping into  my own validity. Time and time again congestion caused by  bygone perplexities unwinds and allows for novelty and liberation. Rooted in rightness, this involves a purposeful  willingness to let go. I can’t change what was, only my reactions to what  is right in front of me. Recognizing the possibility  of old patterns pulling me astray, I can choose to rely upon bedrock of excavated truths to discover a new way through. Lovingly, tenderly I wrap my arms around  all I’ve been, all I am, and all I have left to be. I encourage the freedom of unfettering, nurture the power of presence and embrace the radiance of change. There is beauty in me right here, right now. More and more I feel safe  to let it reflect and refract into the light of day. Photography by Larissa Beniaminova


Remember the Goddess Your earth is not flat as you thought it was. Your feet are not glued to the ground. You can fly with the wings of machinery. New worlds are sought out & then found. Your Patriarchy, flawed and corrupted. Your Government now full of shame. Your fingers are pointing at everyone Yet none are willing to take the blame. Your world now polluted and dying. Your children distracted and ill Your food mass produced and a poison But it tastes good, so you'll pay the bill. Religion alone cannot save us. Ideologies ancient and wrong The god that you worship can't hear you He's turned a deaf ear to your song. If all that you knew is proved twisted Like an image in mirrors of fun Why not change what we're doing and alter The future, and bow to the sun? Revere all that's natural & holy, The Universe calls to your soul. Remember the Goddess who birthed us Let LOVE be our ultimate goal. Peggy Frye : I am a licensed administrator, the elde