Ekphrastic Poetry · Healing · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry · Voices from the Veil

Fall Flurries

Fall Flurries

The autumn bounty

of leaves falling

like rain on summer’s worn garden

mounting into sturdy bundles

as we rake away this harvest

into recreation for children

bounding into the crisp pillows

scattering with joy

the frazzled bits of foliage

into fresh ground for snow and

angels’ wings.

Image result for snow angels

 

©2018 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Image: “Fall Flurries” digital art ©2018 Martha Harris. See Martha’s Artistic Flarings @artisticflarings.blog

snow angel – google image

 

Healing · Poem · Poetry

Join Me

Join Me

 

Come, friends,

Join me at the table.

It’s time to retreat,

To seek sanctuary,

To cloister and rest

In soul voice,

Heart.

Tis’ the season

To mature spirit,

To melt the ice of fear

As we make a fire of gratitude

With flames searing skyward

In highest prayer,

Grace-filled litany,

Cleansing, preparing, refining,

Galvanizing diamond mind,

As flames sear up from root to crown,

Our crucibles

Cleansed in

God’s alchemy.

Winter’s slumber, a quickening.

Come, friends,

Join me,

Retreat,

Listen,

Allow.

 

©2018 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Image, My Patio: ©Barbara Harris Leonhard

Healing · Poem · Poetry · Reiki

Shadow

Shadow

 

Shadow clings to me;

I, to the Light.

No angle to the sun

Will rid me of Shadow.

Shadow is tallest

At highest Light,

And dimmest

At highest Night.

 

Freedom from Shadow

Is an illusion.

She is always over my shoulder and

Hard to slap

When she constantly rebukes me

Into my tormented ears.

 

Evasive yet underfoot,

Like old gum

Stuck to my shoes

being dragged

Through mud and straw.

 

Even at night,

Shadow grips onto me.

My specter in lamp light,

How she looms across a wall

Watching me read,

And how she enfolds me as I sleep

With her cold arms.

 

Sleek, silky Sorceress,

No face,

Only form;

She is the outline of

The dark side of my soul,

The color of abyss,

The size of void.

Her breath reeks of

Cosmic dust.

 

She is my pesky hag,

My tyrant,

My saboteur,

My martyr,

My critic,

My blackmailer.

 

My constant companion

And biographer,

She has written the novels of all my lives,

The Akashic Scholar assigned to me at birth.

My secrets rest with Shadow;

She knows all my doubts, fears, trespasses, sins.

 

Shadow holds the causes

Of my discords and dis-ease.

My contender, she greedily obscures

That which I must discover,

My authentic selves

In all my lives.

 

If I uncover my truth,

She will lose me forever,

And she cannot bear to be alone.

Shadow has no shadow

To bear.

 

Still, she must give up my secrets

If I persist.

Though she is a wounded healer,

Shadow will never heal

Unless I do,

Unless I listen and turn to the Light

In such a way

That Shadow is standing

Next to me,

Not behind me,

My Sacred Sister,

Holding my hand.

 

My dear Shadow,

You can never abandon me,

Nor I you.

 

©2018 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Image: pixabay.com

Healing · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry

Transmutation

Transmutation

Creation is an upheaval

Of shadows

By Light.

Creator’s hands bearing down

Stroking, enfolding

The silken dark.

Tell me your secrets.

The truth will set you free.

Take hold of this Light.

The way is deep into mystery

And verity.

Creator, dispersing Light into the chaos,

Dissipating shadows,

Disbanding the umber shafts,

Bearing from obscurity,

Blinding radiance, for

Dispersing the shadows

Is a messy rooting out of the defiled

From deep fissures.

The Light, driven into the abyss,

Is a searing, sweltering alignment

To lucidity,

To sanity.

Creation is constant,

Alive, ceaseless, vast.

Grinding like ancient machinery

Climaxing in trumpets

And sonic wails

As darkness succumbs in

This cosmic union,

The luster of golden lambency,

The haze rising to the gloss

Of sacral rain.

This is transmutation:

The dark chasm of the soul

Recast into poetry.

 

©2018 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Image: “Transmutation” digital art ©2018 Martha Harris See Martha’s Artistic Flarings @artisticflarings.blog

Healing · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry

Sleep Chose Me

Sleep Chose Me

Sleep chose me

To take this walk on crisp leaves

Smothered by frost.

Colors, thread bare faces,

Glassy lattice in sun,

Forming halos for owls

As shade dissolves into moonlight,

Magical stasis.

Linger here in truth,

Alone with feathers of snow

Clinging briefly to crystal,

Blazing its fire,

Sizzling in waves of storm

Like smothered sand bits

On the wild shore

Holding my footing.

The colors dim into food for forest.

I trample the earth into new stone,

Bedrock for soul,

My blossom,

With the will to live

In granite.

©2018 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Image: “Building Blocks” digital art ©2018 Martha Harris See Martha’s Artistic Flarings @artisticflarings.blog

 

 

 

Audio · Digital Art · Healing · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry · Quotes · Reiki

Bloom

Bloom

as I take root on this plane

may I receive the healing light of

all that is divine

may heaven meet earth

through me to transmute

the crusted fear that traps me

in brambles

may I grow my destiny

without ego mind

may I fully trust the divine order

that teaches only love

may I grow in love

may I be love

may the divine light

unfurl my blossoming heart

in this splendid garden

the Gardener knows the art and seasons

how to plant

how to nourish

how to harvest

I am but one glorious bloom

with no skills in tending the soil

my place in this garden is small

my view is limited to

my small leaves

reaching for the sun

yet I trust in the Gardener and Gaia

to bloom my bouquet

to bloom my love

©2018 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Image: “Bloom” digital art ©2018 Martha Harris See Martha’s Artistic Flarings @artisticflarings.blog

Image Wording: Shannon Hensley

Healing · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry

A Prayer: Calm Within the Storm

A Prayer: Calm Within the Storm

To You, the One Most High,
I send this prayer.
It is not with words,
But with the light from my heart.
Words may tarnish
What I truly feel.

I am of Light, am I not?
Light speaks my truth.
You know me as I truly shine,
And even I am still studying
All the facets of my light
To discover my soul mind.

But You know Me,
My dimensional glow,
My powers and also
Each crack in my face
Shattering my facade.
I cannot lie to the One Most High.

Let me open my heart to You so
That You might read my truth.
May I say, I am hurting.
It shows in my light, does it not?
Is this the death of self,
Or new growth of soul?
Which is it?

All the suffering I see,
All the pain I feel,
It is in my light.
It is dimming my light
Into shadows of fear and remorse.

So I kneel in prayer
To the One Most High.
May I release it to You to be
Transformed into dust for
New stars,
Rather than building a taller wall
Around my heart?

I feel those dense walls of
Heavy stone and mortar
Slowly building up over time,
And the bramble of weeds
Stretching to my throat,
My truth succumbing to the drought
Of tears,
Feeling caught up in surviving
A battle of wills.

May I receive healing
And assistance?
Guidance?
May I be blessed? Saved? Anointed?

When I rise up with my arms
To touch You,
I feel Your Light always
As it flows into my veins,
I know. I know.
Yet I battle Your Grace
All too often,
Thinking I can save Myself.
I can do it.
I will do it.

Only I can make this way.
I work so hard for You.
I am enough, am I not?
Am I not Your vase of seeds
For new gardens?
Am I not Your sword
Battling all to carry Your Word
As I rage in this messy confrontation
Of powers and forces all around me?

Humbly, I come to know that
You are never apart from me;
I am You.
I Am You,
A spark of Source Light.
This light in my heart is You.
How can I dismiss it?
How can I taint it with fear?
How can I wall it off,
Resisting gratitude?
How can I address You but
On my own mundane terms?

This pain is illusory,
This way of mine is illusory,
As is ‘I’ and ‘My’.
As is ‘You’ and ‘Your’.
So there are no words
That can express truth.
All that is
Is the Light,
Emanating into and from the heart
As cosmic breath.

Just being in this Light
Without petitioning,
Without crying out,
Without withstanding,
Without beseeching,
Without condemning,
Without apologizing,
Without negotiating,
Without grieving,
Without fearing a fate,
Without playing the drama,…

Just being in this Light,
Just being,
This is enough,
Is it not?
That is the prayer,
Is it not?

That is the prayer.

©2018 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Digital Art “Calm Within the Storm” ©Martha Harris. See Martha’s Artistic Flarings@artisticflarings.blog

Martha said to credit the butterfly to Andrew Lumish. He is the guy who cleans the centuries worth of dirt off the old gravestones of mostly fallen heroes and/or their families.