Skip to main content

SPACE by Sandy Rochelle

 

Space

 

A door opens in the cloud and I enter.

The ascension begins.

I am wrapped like a mummy awaiting the next world.

My memories intact.

My guide prepares me.

Wisdom has guided me here.

Beings kind and resourceful.

I have never been alone.

My body opens up to new horizons.

Fluid and love attach to my skin.

Mysterious oddities welcome me home.

 

(This poem was first published by Moon Shadow Sanctuary Press). 




Sandy Rochelle is an award-winning poet, actress and filmmaker. She is the recipient of The World Peace Prayer Society Poetry Award--- And the President's Award for Literature. She narrated and produced the Documentary film: Art Watch, about renowned art historian, James Beck. Publications include: Verse Virtual, Dissident Voice, Wild Word, Lothlorien  Poetry Journal, Trouvaille Review, Poetic Sun, Every Day Writer, Spillwords Press, Impspired, and others. Connect with Sandy via her website here. 



*For submission guidelines, click here.*

Labels:

Comments

  1. Caradie JamesMarch 9, 2023 at 8:05 AM

    Effortless and beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
  2. AnonymousMarch 10, 2023 at 3:48 AM

    Such a beautiful poem. A pleasure to read

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

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
18 comments
Read more

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
1 comment
Read more

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
5 comments
Read more