Journey of the Heart

EDITOR'S NOTE:  The following poem, by Sarah Carlson, was composed shortly after the deadliest shooting in Lewiston, Maine, U.S.A. on October 25, 2023 , in which 18 people were fatally shot, and 13 others were left injured. As of 2023, it was the 10th deadliest mass shooting in U.S history.  The Fog of Mourning with love to my home state of Maine  by Sarah Carlson   We know what we know. People were slain. People were injured. People experienced terror. We are hurting. We wait and wonder.   I had a sudden rush  of tangled emotions this morning after I read about the tender beings who were killed in Lewiston. I feel such empathy for them, for their families, for those who shared in their lives. And then it went deeper as the words “there one minute, gone the next”  meandered through my mind. Though it has been years, and my husband died peacefully, I can relate to a normal day  that ends with sudden,  catastrophic loss. At first I felt guilty....

  Place by Sandy Rochelle    This is the most beautiful place because it touched his skin. When he laughed and cried. When he loved me and when he didn't. When blessings became tarnished. When the flowers in my hand were twice blessed. When the earth spoke to me. When the rivers swallowed me up and drank my tears. When I thought life was forever. When I found out it was not. 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. *

The Owls’ Teachings by Carolyn Chilton Casas From beyond the darkened orchard, I hear the blossoming calls of a great horned owl and his companion’s reply. From oak to pine, they converse in a secret language while I sit in between, guessing at the meaning. It’s a blessing to feel their presence though they can’t be seen, and yet with my closed eyes, I picture their soft, feathered bodies, heads swiveling side to side. Could there be a teaching in this— to open a space in my heart, to consider them friends for whatever time they are near, until they take wing? Oh, the jubilance...

  Within my Heart by Ann Metlay I live within the folds of my heart. Its curves of valves and flaps, its steady beat, my lifeblood.   Follow these bloodlines. they lead deep into the hearts of others, paths to connect us all to the love of the One.   Sometimes, my trail seems  studded with rocks. I stumble. Perhaps the trickle of tears, the sobs that contract my breath  are meant to scrub across these pebbles, display their luster, the jewels I share within love.   Even when the Beyond beckons, and loved ones’ paths must depart, I know these diamonds, these sapphires, remain, treasures for future mining. See this necklace   draped along the spirals of my path. These have become my jewels collected from personal  battlefield, my travails and my personal conquests. To whom will I bequeath my wealth?           Ann Metlay , a lifelong writer, grew up in the 50’s’ in Berkeley. Her family shared a love of folks songs and close...

Field of Poppies       by Eva Marie Cagley  I remember when you were mine, Another place, another time. Walking through the meadow we were, gathering up scarlet poppies. Dancing in the cool velvety breeze, still brings me to my wobbling knees. We gazed upon that pure white shooting star, the one that came so far. And made our vows to each other then, we`d be as one from here on in. I heard a nightingale sing a melody that became our song. In our hearts we knew that we belonged, within each other’s arms. Oh, how sweet the music to my ears, as we grew old throughout the years. We walked that meadow many a time, listening for our song, as we hummed along. Until one day I walked alone, gazing upwards into the indigo night. Searching for the brightest star. I saw you from afar. ‘Twas then I did hear our song and I swear you hummed along. Comforted now in knowing, I could always find you in our meadow of scarlet poppies. Dancing and humming our nightingale’s sweet song. Ev...

    An Exotic Flower I could paint the most exquisite rose From the gentle stroke of my mind, As the beautiful face of my mother   My thoughts flashing as silver ripples to glisten on my liquified lashes When I recall and remember   Her magical glow of rose pink, a glittering beacon in a light house Guiding my steps through all weather   Ever glowing -ever warming Always beside me as my shadow Helping me mold, holding her finger    Regardless of unpredictable seasons Her sweet fragrance still lingers rejuvenating my soul with such vigor   Just like it did as I lay within her unborn a fountain of unconditional love, she was that makes my heart flutter   Caressing the rough patches through the years with her sweet nectar for sustenance She was my partner, my soul sister     Her petals one by one had lifted me up  every time I fell, brushing the dust  gathered on my earthly cover   Till one fatal twist of fate Forcibly s...

I wrote this poem on International Women's Day as a personal reflection of growth and wisdom in my life... Lately this wisdom has been put to the test by the unexpected and tragic loss of my brother back in January. If ever there was a time to stretch and dig and pool the resources of self-love, self-compassion, spirit, wisdom grace and perspective, which I have worked so hard to embody, this has been it. As I ran that day, I reflected that though this has been a terrible season in life, it has also come with great beauty. And while the nature of this kind of grief is uncharted territory, my previous experiences with grief has prepared me to make this journey. Though I have welcomed support in many forms, in my heart of hearts I know I have to make this passage alone, and that I have to show up for myself in this season in life. I am the wise woman I am seeking. Nature, the familiar trees and trails and woods that I am so inclined to run in, has been my refuge and safe pl...