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Podcast: Grief and Healing

I just published a new podcast episode which explores the grief and loss we are experiencing mainly due to the current pandemic and social upheaval. Our wellness is at stake, and those with pre-existing conditions are vulnerable. How can we maintain good health and navigate our grief when we experience loss of loved ones and disruptions in our daily life? Poetry can help us nurture compassion and heal on our sacred journeys.

https://meelosmom.podbean.com/e/grief-and-healing-1596140188/

I hope you listen, like, and share the link. My gratitude!

Contributors

Image: “New Day” ©Martha Harris, Martha’s Artistic Flarings, artisticflarings.blog

Clarissa Simmens is an Independent poet; Romani drabarni (herbalist/advisor); ukulele and guitar player; wannabe song writer; and music addict. Favorite music genres include Classic Rock, Folk, Romani (Gypsy), and Cajun with an emphasis on guitar and violin music mainly in a Minor key.

Facebook: facebook.com/RomaniGypsyBooks

WordPress: poeturja.wordpress.com

Amazon Author Page: t.co/JSvNROn15t (self-published)

Cynthia Cady Stanton is a hospice chaplain, bereavement specialist, speaker, poet and writer. She is a regular contributor to Phoebe. MD: Medicine + Poetry (https://phoebemd.com/).

Website: cynthiacadystanton.com

Blog: becomingandbeholding.blog

LinkedIn: linkedin.cynthia-cady-stanton-3599b823

Denise Fletcher is a freelance writer and artist. Her creative works have appeared in Bards Against Hunger, Kaleidoscope Magazine and numerous publications in the U.S., Canada and the U.K.

Blog: Poetry Curator – poetrycurator2020.blogspot.com

Laura Kelly Fanucci, Instagram: @thismessygrace

I found her poem “When This is Over” here:

https://www.americamagazine.org/faith/2020/04/10/podcast-meet-catholic-author-behind-coronavirus-poem-went-viral

Barbara Harris Leonhard is a writer, poet, and blogger. Her work appears in Phoebe, MD: Medicine and Poetry, Well Versed 2020, Spillwords; FREE VERSE REVOLUTION; Heretics, Lovers and Madmen; Go Dog Go Café; Silver Birch Press; Amethyst Review (pending); Pillbaby.com; and Vita Brevis. She is the author of Discoveries in Academic Writing, which is based on her years of teaching English as a Second Language at the University of Missouri.

Blog: extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Podcastmeelosmom.podbean.com

Sources:

https://www.newsweek.com/person-their-30s-dies-after-attending-covid-party-thought-it-was-hoax-health-officials-1517172

https://english.alarabiya.net/en/coronavirus/2020/07/08/Coronavirus-Weeks-after-husband-s-funeral-widow-dies-herself-from-COVID-19)

https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/wellness/anger-control-protests-masks-coronavirus/2020/06/29/a1e882d0-b279-11ea-8758-bfd1d045525a_story.html

https://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/health/wellness-and-prevention/the-power-of-positive-thinking

 

 

 

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

Do Unto

Do Unto

 

We seem to be in a daze

In this Dance of Life.

Is this My life 

Or is it Our life to grow as One? 

What I do to You,

I do to All 

And mainly to Myself.

 

My fear and anger,

My rage,

Reside in My body, not Yours.

I am killing Myself with disease

Because I despise You.

 

Because I abhor You,

I abhor Myself.

Because I loathe Myself, 

I loathe You more! 

I despise Your face and Your skin!

I deplore Your poverty!

Your children disgust me! 

I resent the fact that You are not of My tribe! 

 

Your needs are deplorable because

Mine are greater!

Your fear of loss is pathetic because

My fear of abandonment is much deeper,

Much deeper than Your sorrows. 

 

You can’t have what is MINE!

You CAN’T have what is mine!

YOU can’t have what is MINE!

 

I despise YOU because

You feel entitled to what is 

MINE!

 

And I’ll scream at YOU until MY pain is heard!

Until I’M seen and heard

Because I feel invisible and mute,

Helpless, disrespected, disowned.

 

It’s taught that

What I do to You,

I do to Myself,

The anger and fear bind My soul, not Yours,

And poison My blood, not Yours

My loathing is Self-loathing. 

I Abhor My face, My skin, My poverty, My children!

My soul is deplorable!

So You must suffer

Because I am in such pain, and 

My life is at stake! 

My home, 

My money,

My tribe!

 

It’s taught, 

Unto you,

Unto me.

What I do to you, I do to myself.

 

How can We heal this cycle of fear?

How can We love? 

If only I could love My own soul, then 

I could love Yours more and 

Heal this anger, this 

Cancer, this

Malignancy, this

Contagion.

My anger and fear are toxins 

Tearing apart My heart, not Your heart.

 

When can I finally see,

When can I finally feel,

Unto You,

Unto Me.

What I do to You,

I do to Myself.

 

Unto Me,

Unto You.

What I do to Myself,

I also do to You!

 

When can I know?

When!

 

 

 

Poster ©Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Digital Art “Dancing Daze” ©Martha Harris

Audio · Poem · Poetry

The Colors of My Soul

What is the color of my Soul?

It is all colors.

It is the colors I have kept in a box

I’ve failed to open too long.

It is the palette of my heart

I’ve failed to use too long.

The colors are there in brilliant hue

And not dull, as I feared.

My Soul is strong in colors,

Like the fire in a rainbow

Stretching from my heart

To all my cells and senses

And to the stars,

Making a way for me to go

And leave behind the dull shades

Of grief

            Of fear

                        Of anger

                                    Of self doubt.

They are the colors

Of my shadow heart.

My Soul is the artist

Who will fill the dusty canvas

With gentle strokes,

Creating the sunrise

Of my heart,

Splashes of orange and gold,

Colors of light spreading to other hearts,

Making them one heart,

The color of love.

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Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/hursty11/images/39695628/title/rainbows-8-photo

Image: playbuzz.stfi.re.com

Image:  www.buzzfeed.com 21 gorgeous sunrises          

Audio · Poem · Poetry

Grief

Grief is ice.
Anger is fire.
Fear is boiling oil.

Aging is a slow death.
Feeling outmoded.
Feeling regretful.
Feeling guilty.
Feeling fearful.

Maybe it doesn’t matter.
Why do I care;
Who cares.
I ask for clarity and energy.

What matters is you.
Just be happy.
These are mole hills, not mountains.
Can’t bring back love.
Can’t fix everything.
Can’t outdo.
Can’t worry about recognition.
Can’t worry about inequity.
It’s not important.
It’s their blindness.
Just be grateful.

What makes me angry?
Am I letting go of the past?

Another shell breaks open for new life.
Growth emerges after fire.

I recall in times of despair, they said, why aren’t you angry?
I held it in selfishly. I couldn’t speak or cry out.
Why would it matter. Really.
If I shouted and screamed.
As much as I tried, I couldn’t.

I beg, please lift this darkness.
There’s too much to do other than what I’m supposed to do.
There’s too much loss with more on the way.
Is this life? Am I wrong to be concerned?
I’m angry and sad.
I’m ready to let go of it. But how?
It doesn’t end.

You counted the Mala beads.
This is a process. Just be patient. You did ask for this.
Seeking forgiveness in all lifetimes
Seeking gratitude in all lifetimes
Letting go of anger in all lifetimes
Healing curses in all lifetimes
Curing pain in all lifetimes
Seeking grace in all lifetimes
These are all gifts
Not burdens.
You chose to release the shadows.

It’s searing
Like the sun is inside of me
A blazing fire
I scream to the deaf.

It’s a cleansing
With the Light.
And so it is.

 

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: Kingdom of Sorrow  http://szydlak.deviantart.com/art/Kingdom-of-Sorrow-390145418

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