Audio · My Family · My Father · My Mother · Poem · Poetry

The House of Souls

 

The abode on the lake

Has housed many souls

From my lineage and anew

And survived many fates.

 

Dad, Earle of the manor,

An only child, his own best friend,

Took to adventures on the sandy beach of Lake Michigan,

His playground for swimming and skating.

 

Nature can be a foe and muster legends, as

The winter snow almost ate him when

He stumbled into a hole and was buried up to the neck, no siblings for his rescue.

And another boy wearing Dad’s skates fell through the ice.

 

Our pilgrimages there to see the sages,

Our faces burned by whiskers

After Granddad arrived home from the bank.

He built the house; it was also a Harris.

 

Our tummies filled with cherry pie

At the little round kid table by the nook.

Grandma Hattie’s apron and her

Kind, dark, deep-set eyes.

 

Our games and play for hours

On the sandy beach with the sun bearing down

To make blisters so big that

Bandages became our body armor.

 

Still, Sweet Grandma would hug so hard

The blisters would break open,

Soothed only by time and more cherry pie.

Lessons unlearned as we raced back to the shore.

 

Years passed with generations gone.

We moved there with Mom, for Dad went away to school.

How she survived is a testament to her resolve

As the Handmaid, the Mother, and the Queen.

 

This was our adventure, owning the castle.

Seven kids loving mischief,

Feeding Mom’s jewelry down the heating vent, and

Spreading around a bag of flour before the guests arrived.

 

Once the house almost died

As lightning struck it while Mom was away,

Having trusted the house and nature

To guard the seven treasures.

 

The house was hungry in the winter

Fed by coal delivered to the creepy bin in the basement.

How the house shook like a mighty beast when fed,

Satiated and ready for slumber.

 

Once I found Mom by the furnace.

How she looked wed to the fire.

Her eyes were blazing as she stoked the coals

And turned to glare at me. Of course, I ran.

 

The Lake had receded, so that year,

We only had waves of grass as our shore.

But the garage still had Granddad’s tools as toys,

And we could still smell him there.

 

This house was Dad’s soul and anchor,

Our refuge on vacations,

Our residence in a life transition.

I still hang my curtains the same way now,

 

Though I really can’t linger there

As was shown in a dream.

I saw myself as a young girl on the shore,

Dad and his parents inside at the nook.

 

Follow us, they said, leading me to the water’s edge

Though I feared the water and dared not venture too deep,

I followed and we became as frogs

Twisting with the current and swimming on the lake bottom.

 

Out we came to new ground

And I was made to walk on hot coals.

How I blazed on this path,

Glistening into my new fine diamond body

 

Until reborn into the Now.

For the past is but a house of memories

That cannot survive present winds or future travail.

And now the house that once held our souls has new occupants.

 

Copyright © August 11, 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: Our House of Souls, which we had on Lake Michigan in Escanaba, Michigan

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Audio · Poem · Poetry · Tai Chi

New Audio: Fair Maiden

Fair Maiden

White leather sown with straps and beads,
Braids woven in feathers
Though fair skinned,
I am a Native maiden,
On my path winding inward.
The forest tangles
Yet opens its vines and limbs
As a cave mouth,
Where I enter, greeted by a wolf and a hawk,
Guides to an overlook.
Wolf at my side, the expanse opens up.
I fly with Hawk,
The wind drumming my face
To where the dance is,
The drums, the rattles.
Wolf and I dance.
As the Fire strokes my hair.
Drumming, chanting, whirling.
I whirl my arms skyward,
Embracing air. I am small,
For the twisting air makes night a shape,
Looming before me, it asks if
I am ready to die.
I stand bold, warding off Death.
Fair Maiden to the North,
South, East, and West, all directions.
Night Dragon breathes Fire,
But I ward off Death in the fumes.
All around the drums beating
In my heart, steady beats, strong.
I stand like granite.
I am the chanting, the dance.
The songs open to me
The words I need to know
As I emerge from the rage
Of Night, asking for my Soul,
Of which I have many,
One for every element.
The elders sing my divination,
Their faces lit by fire and stars.
The Night Beast withdraws,
Warded off by my Spirit,
There he rests, waiting
For another test of me, but
He’s really an Ally,
Guarding a contract
Written in parchment
By the Sea of Forgetting.
I am here to be reborn.
To awaken to Truth
And to lead others to their sacred gardens,
Where Fear makes their beasts
And where they greet Death
As a passage to their Spirit Name.
And emerge as warriors,
Gifted with arrows, feathers, and drums.

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: https://pixabay.com/en/native-sprite-dancer-folk-art-20341/

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Audio · Poem · Poetry · Voices from the Veil

The Garden of Ashes

 

The Garden of Ashes

How nice you stopped by here

To sit among us.

Yes, it’s fine. Have a seat.

See the walkway of stones

To this worn bench under the trees

Surrounded by shrubs in this garden of ashes.

We offer you this cool breeze

And this view of a grand city of granite

Sheltered by canopies of

Stately pin oaks with branches like arms

Hugging families bearing flowers.

How nice you stopped by!

We come just for the guests.

This isn’t our abode now.

Not many linger;

We coax each other, yet

There are the stubborn.

Well, we shouldn’t gossip.

They just need time to detach

From their marble statues and earthly beds.

Mischief can be trouble, and

Kids come looking for it.

How some carry on!

They hear stories of the shadows

That perform for the cameras,

We find it entertaining, but

Most souls never linger really;

They like the amenities of the Light.

Even if you bless the stones,

It isn’t needed really.

We only come for your visits.

 

Copyright © August 9, 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: http://beautiful-naturewallpapers.blogspot.com/2013/02/peaceful-sceneries-wallpapers.html

Peaceful Sceneries Wallpapers 9

 

 

Audio · Ekphrastic Poetry · Poem · Poetry

Life Finds a Way

 

Life Finds a Way

Though battered and bruised,

Your soul pinched off

Like a pruned plant,

Your bark sheered

To pristine skin,

Your torso shattered

By lightening and storm,

Your limbs entangled

In shackles of pain,

Your crown toppled over

By axes and saws,

Your bounty sheered away by winds,

Your roots chopped off

From sacred sources,

Life will find a way

To feed those roots,

Creating saplings in new blood.

Enriching the heart.

May your Will find the way

For new seeds, new growth,

Around the obstacles to your being.

Nature perseveres.

May you be your tree of life.

 

Copyright © August 9, 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: http://www.boredpanda.com/trees-refuse-to-give-up/

This article has amazing pictures of trees that have survived great adversity.

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Audio · Poem · Poetry · Voices from the Veil

The Jewel

 

There is no date of my passing

On this cold stone,

Only my one name.

Those were tough times

When etchings in granite

Cost diamonds.

My name was a jewel

Captured from a life

Gone with the waves of time, as I.

I recall not my arrival or departure

As this jewel,

For it’s been ages.

I have many names now

As I have come and gone

More than once.

For each earthly visit,

We all leave a snippet of our soul,

Waiting for a kind voice

Uttering our names,

And once heard, we gather ourselves up

Like flowers for a new display.

This is how it is.

Names are themselves souls.

So today I will gather myself up

For a new coming.

Thank you, my friend.

 

Copyright © August 8, 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: Pixabay     https://pixabay.com/en/shell-pearl-valuable-light-sand-1972980/

Shell, Pearl, Valuable, Light, Sand, Open, Jewellery

 

 

 

 

 

Audio · Poem · Poetry

It is Time

 

It is time

To make peace.

Dark Mother

Breathes her last.

All; Nothing.

Nothing; All.

Through the wormhole,

Time is born.

 

Copyright © August 7, 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: Pixabay  https://pixabay.com/en/science-fiction-teleportation-2127670/

 

Audio · Ekphrastic Poetry · Poem · Poetry

With This Ring

 

With this ring

I thee wed.

For years to come

In sacred design

This ring cast into our hearts,

Holding like a puzzle

With no solution

That would break the bond

Of mystery that is Us.

A jewel, though welded tight,

Could dislodge, yet

It is recast from our

Diamond body,

The rock face of our soul,

Which is Us.

 

The paradox is the triad,

You, Me, and Us.

We are three-fold.

A triangle with a solid base,

Our new house,

Which is Us.

We can see from all angles

The intangible Us.

Without Us,

We are No-thing,

Just You, Me, and

An empty bond.

 

It is with this ring,

I thee wed for

Unity in all celebrations –

Birth and becoming,

And even hope in travail –

Deceit and death.

All is in this ring

That could heal love

Or spite love, yet

We have Us to complete

The welding of this jewel

Born out of You and Me.

And so, we together

In the Name Most High,

With this ring,

Wed as three, the One:

You, Me, and Us.

 

Copyright © August 7, 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: Pixabay   https://pixabay.com/en/unity-love-marriage-ring-wedding-2579149/

 

Audio · Poem · Poetry · Reiki

New Audio: Upon Attunement

Where there is solace,

One seeks the light.

For all nights to days

And suns to moons,

Sepulchers to You,

Just and kind,

Taking the child’s hand

And toys to that special place

Where Divinity is,

Surrounded by trees of life

And secret gardens,

Where Majesty grows its bounty.

And so I will go,

Carrying the bundle of fire,

Seeking water to flow

Over Time’s channels.

The key to unlock the gate

Is in hand.

 

 

 

Copyright© 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: Pixabay

31A48BED-51A3-4E97-A80E-0BDAB76B1ED6-588-0000004C0F3F648D

Audio · Poem · Poetry · Voices from the Veil

Tell Them Who Will Listen

Listen to my story.

I was a man who worked hard,

A laborer.

Dirt lined my nail beds

From toil that cost me years.

My hands were calloused,

But not my heart.

My wife, pregnant,

We were happy.

Our home, built and painted in all the colors.

Still, we lost that little soul too soon.

Our tears washed our souls

But could not flush off our grief.

My toil was not the cure

For this deficit in love.

Our loss stole our smiles.

We sat like trees for years

Rooted in grief.

Can you hear me?

Though torn apart,

We are not alone here.

This is my garden now,

And we are tending it.

We are family in loss,

But not in this garden.

Tell them who will listen.

 

Copyright © August 6, 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: pixabay 

Audio · My Mother · Poem · Poetry · Voices from the Veil

Hello, It’s Mom

Hello, it’s Mom. You called for me, so here I am!

Dad has visited you. Do you recall the dreams?

I called you shortly after everything,

You thought it was just static,

But I had so much to tell you.

I’m in a good place.

I can see old friends and play cards.

I’m learning about

How it is,

Who we are,

Why we are.

Maybe I’ll be back there

Someday and one day.

So many lessons to review;

So much yet to learn.

I recall everything;

You were a big help.

Don’t worry if you cried in fear.

I know you did your best.

I was not me.

I’m here for you now.

I’ll be fine; let go of worry.

Dad knows best here.

He’s been here before

As he told you.

We’ve seen all the old souls

In our ancient lineage.

You will know, someday.

I am more than Mom,

Dad is more than Dad,

You know?

We have many forms in this race.

God has God has God.

There is no beginning, no end.

It’s like a quilt, many stitches and layers

With complex designs.

As above; so below.

You are a finger of God

Reaching out to the human being until rebirth,

And so you will return to God.

And God will return to God as well.

Then we will be one again.

Essence to life to dust to essence.

We here know this.

I will return, and there are many who will

As will you.

This is our choice.

We are fine!

So glad you asked!

Let’s keep in touch.

Much love,

Mom

Copyright © August 6, 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: Mom and I enjoying one of my birthdays

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