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.

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https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

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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).

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©2018 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

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

Audio · Bagua · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry · Tai Chi

Be As Water

Be as Water

Be as water,

Flowing from falls into silt,

Creating pools and streams,

Moving around rocks

And through openings in

Masses of reeds.

 

Be as water,

Flowing without obstruction.

Finding its course

Over the embankments, and

Finding stillness

In pools fed by streams.

 

Be as water,

Earth’s pulse,

Flexible, agile,

Life giving, lithesome.

Its supple force,

Cleansing all.

 

Be as water,

Its nourishment, creating and sustaining life.

Its steam, forming clouds

In Earth’s simmering heat,

The ice in her arctic breath,

Piercing fog.

 

Be as water,

Pure and enriching,

With powers that can’t be harnessed.

It’s Earth’s blood,

Pumping life into her veins

With vital force.

 

Be as water,

Dangerous and destructive

If Earth’s veins are slit.

Her roaring torrents of tears

Are savage and fatal.

Water knows its course.

 

Be as water,

A force of peace and joy,

Spitting up shells and glassy treasures.

A force of nature,

Sweeping away the ages

That need rebirth.

 

Copyright ©2018 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

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

 

 

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

Autumn Song

Autumn Song

When leaves fall, do they cry

As they release their grasp

From Mother’s skirt?

Their lives, soaked in sun and fed by rain.

Their Mother, protective,

Her branches, their home.

How does she feel when her bounty loses grip?

Her children, the glory of her color burst,

Their song to us, their poetry.

Now they bed our paths

In crisp wind play and

Reveal sky, gray with snow.

Autumn is Mother’s heart opening,

Before resting and donning her spring garments

For Easter prayer.

 

Copyright© Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

….an older poem with new art….

Image: Original Digital Art “Autumn Song” ©Martha Harris See Martha’s Artistic Flarings @artisticflarings.blog

 

 

 

Digital Art · My Mother · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry

This, a River

This, a River

This, a river,

I am not lines but curves

Winding around sand bars

Creating islands 

Revealed in low tide

My current pulses life

Tadpoles, carp, algae

I smile in light

Shimmering reflections

I draw in birds to feed

I am poetry for travelers 

On barges

I hold kayaks as toys

To capture in my eddies

This, a river,

My legs flutter waves

Swimming to create

This flow

My arms formed from rivulets

Guiding this charge of current 

Gravity’s way

My power carving out

My face

I shape Mother

As she wishes 

I clean up her storms 

The overwhelming swells

Of branches and trash

Dissolve into me and my banks

I do her work

Feeding her life 

Dispersing its bones and teeth

For children to seek as treasure

This, a river,

Can hold you

Transport you

Can gather you into me

Into my dark

My hungry fury

Beneath my churning 

My currents are scars

That run as bottomless incisions

Into crust

My age is Earth

Study me

Learn me

My mystery is beauty

My myth is enigma

My abyss is danger

This, a river,

What made me

Our Mother 

Her tears washing away our history

Revealing our present

She is in the sun 

Warming our life span

Reflected into my ocean

My soul of 

Beds and banks

Flora and fauna

My aura is your atmosphere

My depths are your cosmos

Mother’s grief can nourish or drown, but

This, a river, 

Cannot cry.

©Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.com

Image “This, a River” digital art ©Martha Harris See Martha’s Artistic Flarings @artisticflarings.blog

Bagua · Digital Art · Poem · Poetry · Tai Chi

Be As Water

Be as Water

Be as water,

Flowing from falls into silt,

Creating pools and streams,

Moving around rocks

And through openings in

Masses of reeds.

 

Be as water,

Flowing without obstruction.

Finding its course

Over the embankments, and

Finding stillness

In pools fed by streams.

 

Be as water,

Earth’s pulse,

Flexible, agile,

Life giving, lithesome.

Its supple force,

Cleansing all.

 

Be as water,

Its nourishment, creating and sustaining life.

Its steam, forming clouds

In Earth’s simmering heat,

The ice in her arctic breath,

Piercing fog.

 

Be as water,

Pure and enriching,

With powers that can’t be harnessed.

It’s Earth’s blood,

Pumping life into her veins

With vital force.

 

Be as water,

Dangerous and destructive

If Earth’s veins are slit.

Her roaring torrents of tears

Are savage and fatal.

Water knows its course.

 

Be as water,

A force of peace and joy,

Spitting up shells and glassy treasures.

A force of nature,

Sweeping away the ages

That need rebirth.

 

Copyright ©2018 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

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