This morning my daughter, the writer, asked me to participate in her next book in her Saga of the Rose series….
I sent her a poem which was written during a very hard time in 2008. She loved it.
Even better, I’m feeling very, very happy about a time which was one of the scariest of my life and am enjoying my new title!
I walk in clouds of messy grace
carry them with me wherever I go
I traverse the worlds of the dark and the light
allowing them both to be places I belong
I jump in puddles of deep infinity splashing stardust with my dusty feet
I sail my arc into the driest desert full sails catching the fine winds of new understanding
I climb the highest mountains
to see all the beauty found above and below me
I lay in the blue-green grass of home
to respect the very stuff that I am made of
I drop for 45 minutes into the center of the earth
to allow my stubbornness to burn away
I search the seas at 3am to find one fighting-to-stay-open heart like my own
I am the night ocean
mysterious life. sparkling light-forms
I am the stable earth
wings of birds. creepy creeping things
I am the rain forest
rarest orchid. poison-est frog.
I am the hottest desert
stickiest cacti. smallest grain of sand.
I am the heavens
guarded by angels. home of God.
I am the word
spoken. written. thought.
I am you
child. sibling. parent. friend.
you are me
loving. lover. loved. beloved. love.
we are possibles
be-ings. unlimited. infinite.
I am’s.
💫
Amy Lloyd
the trees are singing hymns of gregarious grace
including me in their harmonious worship
shades-of-violet hydrangea snowballs shyly peek out from forest green camouflage
wanting to tell their easy going secrets
summer days bunch in humid bouquets of passionate colors
{though we’re all slightly wilted in this heat}
longingly yearning for a bit of chill
the evening falls down in shades of blues and whites
then cinematically the rainbow reel begins to turn
catching our collective breathing in this wonder-as-we-wander show of colors quickly changing
reflecting all its magical up-in-the-air business in the mirrored surface on the water below
for now, light plays electric games
intertwining within the trees empty spaces above black silhouettes
creating living, breathing, stained-glass-type masterpieces down each darkening dead-end street
then it all graciously surrenders to the night call with such tender sky streaking eloquence
having complete peace with its natural disappearance
everything spoken loudly with no verbal cues
I see love everywhere
my soulful poets eyes touching these freely given moments
I wholeheartedly admit, am full-smitten with this messy, beauty-full world
recklessly giving my heart without any hesitation to is flaunting desire to be wild and ramble free-
changing every moment
ever on and on
my heart beat keeps time
my steps lead me through emptied streets
winding my way home
to my bed of quilts and comforts
now I lay me down
with no more miles to go
my ever rambling conversation,
some have named, Prayer,
with this best friend of mine,
this love I know so well, is,
as it is most frequently,
one of extravagant thanks
I am kept
I am loved
I am enough
this I know for sure
😘
Amy Lloyd
You stare at the broken mirrors
Shattered reflections of the past
I think we may be standing in the same
Shadows that been cast
Darkness, no more darkness
The broken days have beat the dead of night
Darkness, no more darkness
No more darkness, no more light
And a trail we choose to follow
It’s as cursed as it is blessed
Is there mercy that we all must face
Before the dead can raise
Darkness, no more darkness
The broken days have beat the dead of night
Darkness, no more darkness
No more darkness, no more light
And if you listen to the song that settled on the breeze
A woman singing unto our baby boy
I won’t live to see the day that you’ll be lifted off your knees
Some days it feels so hopeless
Nothing’s making any sense
Flags we raise in praise of ruthless
Supposed innocence
Darkness, no more darkness
The broken days have beat dead of night
Darkness, no more darkness
No more darkness, no more light
No more darkness, no more light
No more darkness, no more light
❤️
Amos Lee Music and Lyrics
RETURN TO YOURSELF
Stillness is vital to the world of the soul. If as you age you become more still, you will discover that stillness can be a great companion. The fragments of your life will have time to unify, and the places where your soul-shelter is wounded or broken will have time to knit and heal. You will be able to return to yourself. In this stillness, you will engage your soul. Many people miss out on themselves completely as they journey through life. They know others, they know places, they know skills, they know their work, but tragically, they do not know themselves at all. Aging can be a lovely time of ripening when you actually meet yourself, indeed maybe for the first time. There are beautiful lines from T. S. Eliot that say:
‘And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.’
John O’Donohue
Excerpt from ANAM CARA
Here’s to walking barefoot,
to messy hair,
to taking deep breaths,
to salty lips,
to freckles,
to sandy feet,
to breaking all the rules,
to hot tea on chilly mornings,
to sunsets,
to holding hands,
to swimming naked,
to good books,
to friends that tell you the truth no matter what.
Here’s to freshly picked strawberries,
to the full moon,
to going on vacation,
to being home.
Here’s to yoga,
to long hugs,
to too much jewellery,
to laughing until your face hurts.
Here’s to silence, to first kisses, to last kisses, to all kisses.
To saying I Love You.
Here’s to life and death and the moments in between that makes it all worthwhile.
~ Rachel Brathen
play for the day
while the grapes ripen
under the golden sun
the frog prince sit atop a striped lily pad
beautiful balls floating in the water
🌞
sing for the day
while the thunder rolls
under the skies of gray
the cheeky squirrel plans how to get to the bird feeder
while munching on a salad of hibiscus leaf
🌧
cry for the day
teach the willow some lessons in grief
under the blood red moon
while the mind plays evil tricks on the old lady
sleeping once or twice through a night in July
🌑
laugh for the day
find yourself in love with the sound of your own laughter
under the current weathered sky
dream and love and fight and make up
all in a day, every day, while you find yourself alive
💞
Amy Lloyd
Hang with people
who allow you to ripen.
Become the golden sky
in your grape skin.
But don’t forget
the wounded vine
that rounded your bouquet
with tannins of sorrow,
dark tears of petrichor.
True sweetness
has body.
❤️
Fred LaMotte
This world doesn’t improve by demanding perfection. It improves when we reach through our armor and touch another with tenderness. It improves when we bust through the walls of our conditioning, and try a new way of being on for size. It improves when we work through our unresolved shadow and share what little light we can find. It is the small, positive steps that we take when we are at war with ourselves that change the world.
– Jeff Brown
awe…
examination…
this same thought keeps appearing
again…
I delete…
again…
I delete…
haven’t I already written a poem?
haven’t I already written that exact one?
What have I left out?
What haven’t I examined properly?
There are always layers
As Shrek reminds me,
I am an onion…
layers…
yes, layers
illusions
shadows
truth left to excavate
healing to be won
motivations to uncover
mystery to be discovered
always more
God keeps getting bigger
as I examine my own heart,
reduce my need to be right,
open my hands wider.
realization dawns
growth happens
humbles me…
my best self emerges within this process
send it again…
remind me again…
💞
Amy Lloyd
Dear God,
I’m getting tired of your mystery.
I feel distant. I can’t get to you.
Like digging in sand that keeps caving in.
Like running and getting nowhere. Reaching but not touching.
There is a thin crust of ice on the surface of my soul.
I want to break through and come to you, to dive into you deeper.
I want to be more here. More present. Deeper in.
What is holding me back? Is it my discipline?
My need to surrender more? May scatteredness?
My over-anxious ego?
Break my ice, God. Break through. Melt me. I want more.
Come to me.
Beloved,
I am here. You are here. You are in me already.
Where do you think you want to go?
Where do you think I am?
I am the sand. I am the ice. I am the space.
I am the longing.
Just stop. Here we are.
Here we are.
I love you.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to find peace with exactly who and what I am. To take pride in my thoughts, my appearance, my talents, my flaws and to stop this incessant worrying that I can’t be loved as I am.
— Anais Nin
gloom is cheap
the end of the world is always coming
let us do the hard thing
live your highest and best life
give all your deepest love
inhabit all your burning passion
share your most important truth
celebrate every little thing with joy
😘
Amy Lloyd
Real love is intense, but its not dangerous. It’s passionate, but not abusive. It’s vulnerable, but not risky. Those who think love must feel dangerous, often grew up in homes where love was associated with destruction. There was love, but there was so much chaos attached to it that the two became internally indistinguishable. If so, our work now is to learn how to associate love with safety. Not a boring kind of safety, but the kind that is infused with genuine self-care. We set the stage for real love, when we learn how to love ourselves enough to protect ourselves from harm.
– Jeff Brown
I woke up with thoughts like this
Never miss a opportunity to give pleasure to someone else
Where is the face I had before the world was made?
just below the surface of my wearing skin is so much joyous future waiting to be lived
I wrote a thought below your name, which is tattooed on this heart of mine
Greater than happiness is holiness –
You could not help me with either of the preceding < or > desires
Some Temples are built without a stone put together
God is found where two or three sit around a round kitchen table holding hands cupped to collect falling tears
How much research will it take to release the pain in my shoulders?
Poems and prose are witnesses leading to a mapped blueprint of recovery
If I build a house what will the front door look like?
Be still for a long minute
then hold the beat one second longer
Welcome home
❤️
Amy Lloyd
You are built together spiritually
into a dwelling place for God.
—Ephesians 2.22
Tourists come to admire the temple,
to take pictures and buy mementos,
but it’s not on their maps.
Pilgrims come seeking
their separate peace in it,
but they they can’t find it.
Eventually the army arrives,
ordered to destroy the temple,
but it has vanished.
It isn’t here, or there,
it isn’t in a place,
it isn’t a thing.
It is empty space.
It is the love between us.
It is not something that “is,”
but something that happens.
Like gravity that exists
only between objects in space,
the dwelling place of God
exists only in the love
we hold between us.
It is eternal.
When we enter that holy space
among us
which God creates
we enter God,
and nothing can remove us.
In the cool of the sanctuary
we listen to the music
and we breathe.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
http://www.unfoldinglight.net
No one told me
it would be like this—
how growing older
is another passage
of discovery
and that aging is one
grand transformation,
and if some things
become lost along the way,
many other means show up
to bring me closer
to the center of my heart.
No one ever told me
if whatever wonder
waits ahead
is in another realm
and outside of time.
But the amazement, I found,
is that the disconcerting things
in the here and now
that I stumble
and trip my way
through, also
guides me
gracefully
home.
And no one told me
I would ever see
an earth so strong
and fragile, or
a world so sad
and beautiful.
And I surely
didn’t know
I had
all this life
yet in me
or such fire
inside my
bones.
🔥
Susan Frybort
life: acoustic & amplified 