Healing · Poem · Poetry

Homo Sanctus Sanctus

Homo Sanctus Sanctus

When the well sinks into the deep, and

The songs ring flat. When colors fade

To ice and snow. When the sun sets too fast.

And sleep is needed just to breathe.

When good tidings weep without solace, and

The strains of Noel are but tearful whispers.

No one can hold these holy notes alone.

You alone should not bear the burden of

Dust to dust. This is sacred work,

To restore your Being, to evoke your Soul,

Despite the tangle of muddle in the mundane, where

Your disquieted mind diverts you from

Your path. As you flounder, may we be of service.

May we be the weavers drawing your threads into

The tapestry of grace.  May we be the space holders

Bearing up your sorrow for

Transmutation on this bridge of Light,

Offering the way for us all to thrive.

We are harmony, interwoven by cords.

Our affinity reverberates in the geometry

Of the cosmos. We are one on this journey

Infinatum.  Onward. Onward.

Onward. Still, a foundation can crumble,

Spinning us Homo sapiens sapiens

Into a deathless chasm and endless

Drowning in shadows. Without you,

The compass is not viable. Without you,

We agonize. Remember who you are.

Your song resounds in Excelsis Deo.

You are the hymn, echoing light and love.

 

Eros el mago. You are the mystery, the magician,

Creating sacred alchemy though the effort

Can be painstaking and insufferable,

Full of fear and regret, guilt and shame.

As biography begets biology into bloody

Mayhem, you can recast this malaise,

Gradually interlacing it to the Light.

You are the cosmos, made of filaments

Of nebula, and the framework of planets,

You are spiraling brightly in helical orbits

Divinely connected to the web of life.

The macrocosm is your microcosm.

There is nothing wretched in the Holy.

You are the blessed child entering the castle and

Feasting on the ambrosia of bliss

And joy. We need you. We so need you.

We cannot uphold this firmament without you

If we lose our hold. Eros el curador of debility,

Desperation, and despair. Your grace is a baptism.

A holy communion of purifying fire

Igniting soul out of ash. May you bolster us and

Redeem us, our healer, Homo sanctus sanctus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes if needed…

*”Eros el mago” in Spanish means “You are the magician.”

*”Eros el curator” in Spanish means “You are the healer.”

*”sanctus” is Latin for “holy” or “sacred”

Carolyn Myss teaches the our biography creates our biology. This simply means that how we live affects how we thrive as a biological life form.

In the book The Gene Keys Unlocking the Higher Purpose of Your DNA, Richard Rudd uses the term Homo Sanctus, which I found inspiring.

Nick Seneca Jankel reports of a serendipitous experience in which he was approached by a stranger in India who said, “Eros el Mago” to him. This experience helped ignite an awakening. (Coast to Coast AM, 12/12/2018).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

©2018 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Image: Orion Nebula from Pixabay (I chose this image because it depicts a web and a bridge.)

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

Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Sunset

Sunset

Sun slumbering into snow dogs,

Pin oaks guarding their leaves,

Fading attachments to their caregiver,

Eyes of moon,

Skin of ash,

Cramping fingers,

Clinging to comfort with

Their refuge in bitter wind.

Leaves take to faith

Though ripped from the branches

And swept away for flight

To earthen mulch.

And beds for worms.

©2018 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Images of Sun Dogs and Autumn Leaves: ©Dierik Leonhard

 

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