Journey of the Heart

  Autumn by Joy Sheridan I feel them all – my dreams Like Autumn leaves leaving September On a soft-scented drift A memory of summer. I feel them all – my dreams Where love has gone, it does not mean That an expelling has meant an ending, Merely a change. Love can never ever die – should that Heaven forbid the thought, be Then there would be no more, And no more would you hear these words As I pronounce them. I feel them all – my flames, my rosebuds, My daisies, my hyacinths, my tiger lilies, My gentle weeping snowdrops, my daffodils, My white lilies – I feel them all. My flames – lighting the high reaches On those other planes,  Where the light of Heaven is the light of day And in the night, when the stars are at play I feel them even deeper Through that blue-black cloak Of Perfect Love Like mists these fingertips  Will trace their forms. Their names, their lovely smiles Until we meet again . . . Until we meet again . . . (October 8th, 1985) Photography by Daniel Krakan ...

Lesson in Stars   by Joy Sheridan The moon, as I observed,  Was of that peculiar hazed definition –  Like a palm swollen from the twilight gauze  Of that September night.   Veils and scarves in clouds, and my own faint sighs  Moved about her.   That rectangle of earth  Was busy with the stillness of all who paused  Before entering such an edifice – as though  There was a tuck needed here, a straightening there  As though deep breaths were taken.  I knew the feeling only too well,  A beating heart which echoed like a moth  Inside the tenting of my frame.  This same body moved, and with precise soundings  Carried me more courageously  Than I would have considered possible.  I rose up the stairs, passing the flights  Where my fancy had erstwhile  Gone ahead of me – continuing up,  Nearer to the stars.  My introduction was of some classical denomination,  My meantime ...