Journey of the Heart

(Editors note :  Janavi, the author of this poem, and my dear friend, sadly left us last December. Today, June third, is her birthday. I share this poem of hers with you in loving remembrance of the beautiful poet and person she was.) This is an offering from my heart to all my sisters.  I have discovered, as the years roll by, that friendship is beyond value... My Sisters by Janavi Held How I wish we were there together climbing to safety into the arms of the stately grandmother tree dreaming her earthy dreams soaking in her love her ancient wisdom oh sister how I wish to take your hand and run far into the coolness of an early spring morning chattering to each other of the sky and clouds and running to that river where we discovered our hearts, where we wept in grief, where joy turned to reverence, our limbs became sanctified by that holy water, rolling endlessly, beating like our hearts, like the sou...

I created this slide show to recapture an  Underwater  experience... Being buffeted by the strong currents off the west coast of the Garden Island of Kauai, encased in a snorkel mask, flippers, and with a disposable underwater camera in hand, I took these photographs, barely able to see what I was looking at, peering through the mask, through the lens, at a constantly rolling, tumbling seascape.  I dug out this poem, Sometimes , to add to the soundtrack, from a poetry journal I kept on my frequent trips to the island to visit my mother. It contemplates identity, and the recognition that my most authentic self surfaces in communion with nature, in communion with the endless creations of the Divine.  Image by the author, Janavi Held Sometimes by Janavi Held Sometimes I am all of them! Aphrodite and the woman who craved the sea and sprouted gills at night, whose hair turned to seaweed, the woman with red-earth running in her veins and...

This poem comes from an unpublished collection called, Time I Am ...  The title comes from a verse in the Bhagavad Gita , or The Song of God .  After going back to school and graduating in 2009, I was enjoying the freedom of writing without deadlines, and all these poems, reflecting on time, just poured out of me. The collection is divided into three sections: time and how it relates to nature, how time influences our bodies and our social circumstances, and the perception of time and how it influences our spiritual evolution.   The collection also includes photographs. These flowers are from the island of Kauai and from Santa Fe, New Mexico. This poem, Oxygen , is from the second chapter.   Photograph by the author, Janavi Held Oxygen by Janavi Held Absentmindedly my lungs take in oxygen and my fingernails grow and my heart circulates life through my careless limbs. I am entangled in a computer of flesh like flowers growing or vi...

My first love was black and white photography… Perhaps I’m something of a minimalist, so what to do when film is all but gone, and the digital world has, seemingly, endless options?   I remember cutting class in high school to spend time in the darkroom; it was a magical place where pieces of the world I’d collected, or captured with the lens of my camera would take on a new life, altered by filters, paper choices, long or short exposures, long or short baths in the chemicals that would induce the images to appear on paper. So, to me photography is collecting bits of beauty or ugliness, faces or places, the animate , and the inanimate, to bring them home, and share them with who ever is watching. Today I‘ve found a way to alter, and play with my digital photos, giving in, just a little, to the numerous possibilities.   After all, the chemicals in the darkroom smelled pretty toxic. Most of the photographs in this video where taken on the beautiful Garden Island of ...

  Suddenly struck by a painful illness I sought the earth, flowers, and sun, for comfort… I prayed, lying on the warm earth, in God’s natural cathedral, gazing at the clear blue sky, the ceiling built by His hands. Flowers, creepers, drying in the December sun, my only companions. In this poem I express the profound sense of feeling separate from everything and everyone; when there is so much pain in the body, and it becomes immobile, it’s akin to being buried alive in a glass tomb; I see the world around me, interact with others, and yet there is always the sting of loneliness.   As I lay on the earth I dreamt of days past, walking in the fresh spring air watching all manner of life bloom after the cold winter had given way. I mused over so many sweet summers, wondering, praying: will I be a part of it all again?   I knew then, at least intellectually, that I must find myself, the one that lives when the body dies , I knew I had to locate the One Who Alw...