The Storm
I hear
colors and see sounds
Stark black
and white flashes
Electric
zebra stripes exploding from the violent cacophony of mindless noises and
screeching voices.
The
sharpened tendrils of reality slash through the dreams of quiet solitude. Dreams, thoughts really, of what could be.
And Yet
If one will listen, perhaps the color of the
rain may be heard, Multi-hued greys, no, not the greys of sadness but a cooling
welcome respite from the summer heat.
Hear the
earth mother’s gentle sigh as she brings nourishment to all of her family.
So, I say
let us go back to the beginning , let us listen and learn.
Hear the
voice of the Shekinah – the feminine aspect of Yah that is the Earth Mother.
So
Let us hear
her voice and heed no others. Let us understand what she would say to us.
And then yes
we can have a quiet peace that cannot be
shattered.
The Island
I wonder
where the time went?
When was the
last time we saw that drawbridge in the rear view mirror.
We found
where the road divides and we all drifted our separate ways.
The island
is still there, it changed, it is no longer our home.
A childhood
vision is all that remains.
And yet
We are the
bay, the islands and shorelines.
Our ancestors,
their spirits still roam these shores.
You can
still hear their voices on the breeze.
Could we
ever go back there and be together again?
