Audio · Poetry · Prose · Voices from the Veil

Streaming Prayers into Birth

Streaming Prayers into Birth

Sitting at the altar waiting for poems,

Random thoughts; fleeting clouds,

Images reflecting on the mirror of the soul,

Words perched on limbs of inspired trees

Take flight as snow kicks up from breeze.

May they stay; their song, my meter!

Ice freezes their tunes in the thin air of the breath.

Limbs crack in frost under tired sun.

Stillness is ice burning the skin.

The mind is numb till spring thaw.

The altar beckons; the soul fights sleep

In sheer white light,

Where I wander, seeking novas

Streaming prayers into birth.

 

Copyright© 2018/01/16 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image: Pixabay.com

 

Audio · Poem · Poetry · Reiki · Voices from the Veil

New Audio: Listen to the Prayers of Snow

This post includes the audio for the latest poem uploaded December 30, 2017. You can see the wording on that post.

Winter is a good time to reflect. Introspection opens to spiritual growth. Sometimes when we face ourselves, we may feel depressed. Knowing yourself and letting go of all that does not align is not easy but is so crucial for raising your vibration. This light will take you to God.


 

Copyright© 2017/12/31 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image: pixabay.com

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Audio · Poem · Poetry · Voices from the Veil

Listen to the Prayers of Snow

Listen to the Prayers of Snow

Snow sifts down in ashen splendor,

Coating lifeless grass,

Warming its pensive dormancy.

In spring, even the daffodils

Bow their heads to this majesty

As snow descends on early gardens

Eager for fruition.

The sound of snow is holy.

Old bark listens to the lilting chants

Of processions on drifting banks.

Laughter resounds as accolades, and

Sleds leave trails to be filled for new pilgrims.

The requiems of cardinals trumpet on brittle limbs

Hanging tenuously in blizzards.

Squirrels forage in frozen soil under white sky, for

The sun has its own prophesy in ice.

Mountains sleep, awakened only by the treading

Of tired hikers looking for sanctuary.

It’s at this time that pines stand as preachers since

Creeks are too frozen for parables.

I have my hearth by the fire

And my window opening to this temple,

Bringing me inside myself

To listen to the prayers of snow.

 

 

 

 

Copyright© 2017/12/30 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

image: https://pixabay.com/en/cardinal-bird-wildlife-snow-winter-1884283/

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Image: http://download–wallpapers.com/content/daffodils-in-snow-wallpaper.html

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Audio · Poem · Poetry

Gaia

Gaia

We are holding in the cries of fear,

Refusing to surrender to truth.

What can come of filling the streams

Of Gaia’s veins with our tears but a flood of pain?

Can the rifts in her ancient skin be healed?

Can canyon walls ever merge into a New Earth

Free of grief and loss?

 

The fingers of the Sun can only reach so far

Into the depths for galactic truth.

Has God succumbed to the Fire?

It cannot be so.

Though dense on the edges of Holy Planes,

Light is there.

Light and Shadow share one spectrum,

Always in battle for healing,

Finding the perfect balance.

 

Where Earth is upheaved grows new bounty.

The pain of ripping soil births potential,

Shimmering translucent as

Tiny perfect fingers rooting in Time,

Swaddled in constellations

Webbing Then and Now.

Time is connected on all planes.

Today’s prayers heal the past

As it has never ended.

All grief is omnipresent and infinite

If we remain in slumber.

 

Hope is wholeness.

The future is “I AM”.

Tears heal tears in the fabric of Time,

Filling in the rifts and canyons of geologic upheaval

With Love transmuted into cosmic truth.

We are One.

Our tears are Gaia’s rain.

The clogged well of each heart

Is her burden to bear.

Our actions become her prayers or her curses.

She cries in fire, wind and geologic torment when

We fail to love her power,

Which supports us in the lattice of her cosmic apron

To which we cling as babes born innocent

And slow to awaken to her grief,

Which is ours to bear.

 

Copyright© 2017/12/10 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image: Pixabay

 

 

 

 

 

Audio · Ekphrastic Poetry · Poem · Poetry · Reiki

This New Earth

 

 

This New Earth

The summer harvest

Has been reaped

To feed our souls.

The last bounty gone

To the dust of leaves,

Clinging to the mother branch

Until the swirling breeze

Seizes them for the ground

To heal the soil, dried

From August drought.

 

One last fruit,

Grateful for the light,

Ferociously clings here,

Where the kale is anchored

Hardy with a new tree.

My Self, infused

With that last soup, and

Thankful for summer’s

Nurturing days and

Garden of plenty.

 

This is the time for us

To turn the soil and for

The soul to sleep

With the ashes of life

Embedded in earth

To grow new roots

That take us deeper

To higher self,

Birthing and swaddled

In drifting snow.

 

Where it’s cold,

There is deep healing,

It is said.

 

Energy moves in swirls,

Truth emanating in

Vortexes descending

To inner self and

Soul ascending as a sun,

A brilliance of rainbows

Wound around the Tree of Life

To shine on new gardens

Planted in young ground

Fertile with worms.

 

We are the Gardeners

Of This New Earth;

We are the Cycle of Light.

 

Copyright© 2017/11/17 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Images: my garden

 

 

Audio · Ekphrastic Poetry · Haiku · Poem · Poetry

Oh, Child

A

Oh, Child

Oh, Child,

How you hold your form.

Soul of infant stars

Ready to go nova.

Bud of tree

Rooting in familiar soil

Infusing wisdom.

Hatchling of hope,

Fledging of wing,

Seeking flight to All.

Leaf, spring green,

Uncurling for air

With perfect fingers.

Pure soul,

Chaste stream,

How you feed life,

How you inspire love.

May you breathe in Light.

May you be Light.

Copyright© 2017/11/12 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image: https://pixabay.com/en/baby-gerbera-female-girl-bokeh-1953385/

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Audio · Ekphrastic Poetry · Poem · Poetry

Sleep Sit

Sleep Sit

Fields of rice

Beating sun heat

Hands for hoes

Dry dirt for shoes

Meals over fires

Water to haul

On bent back

In a land with no shade

Bits of life

Carved into the skin as

Canyons and dried rivers

Crossing each other or

Stitches of the days

Woven like a rug for prayer

And held in two hands

With the rising moon

Of slumbering eyes

 

Copyright© 2017/11/10 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image: by ThuyHaBich©    https://pixabay.com/en/portrait-sleep-sit-2870659/