Audio · Ekphrastic Poetry · Poem · Poetry

What Do You Do?

What Do You Do?

What do you do

For a homeless soul,

Flailing in the dissipating self,

Swallowing night air,

Gasping for breath as though

Seized by swarms as they

Emerge in their flight

To cloud-capped ridges

Of thunder slapping

The weary heart

Locked in despair?

The Eye sees;

The One knows.

 

Copyright© 2017/12/04 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: pixabay.com

Audio · Ekphrastic Poetry · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry

Broken Heart

Broken Heart

A broken heart,

The construct of love breached,

Rivets on the bridge

snapping in a storm.

The dam opening,

Spilling grief in torrents,

Flooding with tears

The home in the valley.

Trails and journeys,

Washing away,

Burying hope in sediment.

Lives stiffening into artifacts.

 

Is it inherent for

Yin to slaughter Yang?

Can a smile balance on

One lip?

Is a journey taken with

One foot?

Is a blossom perched on

No stem?

Are rays emitted by

No sun?

 

A heart is a quilt sewn with

One continuous thread –

Joy stitching onto grief,

Grief onto hope,

Hope onto despair,

Despair onto joy.

Forms have shadows.

What is a shadow without light?

A heart completes itself.

What is breaking is

Already mending.

 

Copyright©  2017/10/17 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image: Original Art “Broken Heart” © Martha Harris See Martha’s Artistic Flarings @artisticflarings.blog

 

 

Ekphrastic Poetry · Poem · Poetry

Weeping Willow

Weeping Willow

When the old willow weeps,
Her shoulders bow to the Light,
For her ancient tears sing
In tune with the spheres.
The Light binds limbs to leaves
And defies the shade.
Her skirt, a shelter to the fallen,
Making good blankets and walls as
It’s her learning and duty, her strength
In harmony and balance
To stand firm in storms.
So we go to her.
Our pain, her food
Transmuted into swords and light
For our battles and healing.
In her tears, no regret,
Grief and despair stand aside
In this humble Sallow of Time.
We bow to her
In gratitude.

 

Copyright© 2017/10/05  Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image:  http://imgarcade.com/weeping-willow-tree-wallpaper.html

P1020777

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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Audio · Poem · Poetry

I’m Sorry, My Soul

What is the sound of my Soul?

It is the wail of a baby

Waiting to be held;

The chirp of a fledgling

Waiting to be fed;

The cry of a wound

Waiting to be healed;

The whisper of dusk

Beseeching the night;

It’s the sound of low sobs

Tearing at my heart.

I’m sorry, my Soul.

 

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard@extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Image: http://www.larrypatten.com/setwidth600-angel-tears-medium2/