Skip to main content

THE SIREN'S CALL by Anita Neilson

I was born into a God-loving Catholic family. We were brought up to believe in God, to be kind; we were taken to church every Sunday and other holy feast days. We followed the traditions of our religion like not eating meat on a Friday and saying our prayers at night before bed. 

In my twenties, when other responsibilities and leisure activities took up my time, I decided I didn’t need God. I was happy as I was! Then―like everyone else—challenges beset me and I became angry with Him. I can look back now and shake my head and smirk a little at the childish ignorance and arrogance of the person I was in my youth. What was it Jesus said about those people who orchestrated his death, “Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.”  For we are like children spiritually when we’ve turned away from Him. We end up not knowing how to live our lives and getting it all wrong in the process!

I certainly wasn’t expecting to come back to God. I believed I was living a ‘good’ life until ill-health struck in my mid-40s. I began meditation classes simply to help me relax. I didn’t for a minute think it would reignite the Divine spark within me (which I now know never goes out). Yet before I knew it, I was also writing poetry, firstly about the joys of the natural world, and then it became deeper, more turned towards God. It became the outward reflection of a growing inner longing in my heart for God. This took me completely by surprise. Was it Him that I’d been looking for all these years after seeking happiness in material wealth and status and finding it wanting? My longing was transmitting more and more strongly, like a relentless beacon in the fog strengthening my link with the Divine.

It feels different this time though: not a return to organized religion or ‘churchianity’ and following its traditions by rote, but a new, individual relationship where I take inspiration from the best parts of Christianity, Buddhism and Hinduism. My prayers have been answered in an increasing peace, contentment and joy. I realize that God was always listening, but I had tuned Him out! The call home is the sweetest song ever, wordless yet saying so much! My heart is bursting with joy and anticipation. I’m like a little child, desperate for the Father’s love. My old life just doesn’t hold any interest for me now. I am happy as I am.  Here is the poem, The Siren’s Call:


I hear the call home
That quiet, persistent beacon
Through the fog
At times loud and strong
At others quiet and soft.

Like a Siren, it sings
In tune with my heartbeat
Enticing me home.
But I can’t come yet. 
For I’ve found Your bliss on Earth!

May I continue Your work?
For there are others to help.
May I seek out new places? 
For there are wounds to heal.
And when Your work is done
I will race to You with open arms
And cry, “I’m home. I’m home!”

(To hear the author recite her poem, click play below)

Anita Neilson is an author, spiritual poet and blogger. A former high-school teacher, she writes for many mind, body, spirit and chronic illness publications from her base in her native Scotland. Connect with Anita via her blog Healing Words, Instagram or Facebook Page, Her book, Acts of Kindness from your Armchair is available from your preferred online retailer.

*For submission guidelines, click here.*


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 all of life into your inner c…

FOR TARA by Penn Kemp

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 goddess in all her guises. Kemp has been lauded as a trailblaze…

THE JOURNEY by Mary Oliver

Today we honor Mary Oliver (1936-2019) and all the words she left behind. May they inspire you on your journey! 

Excerpt from Mary Oliver’s book Long Life: Essays and Other Writings:

"Poets must read and study...but, also, they must learn to tilt and whisper, shout, or dance, each in his or her own way, or we might just as well copy the old books. But, no, that would never do, for always the new self swimming around in the old world feels itself uniquely verbal. And that is just the point: how the world, moist and bountiful, calls to each of us to make a new and serious response. That's the big question, the one the world throws at you every morning. 'Here you are, alive. Would you like to make a comment?'"

The Journey
By Mary Oliver 
One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice-- though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. "Mend my life!" each voice cried. But y…