Tag: spiritual growth

Join Me
Healing · Poem · Poetry

Join Me

extraordinarysunshineweaver7 Comments

Join Me

 

Come, friends,

Join me at the table.

It’s time to retreat,

To seek sanctuary,

To cloister and rest

In soul voice,

Heart.

Tis’ the season

To mature spirit,

To melt the ice of fear

As we make a fire of gratitude

With flames searing skyward

In highest prayer,

Grace-filled litany,

Cleansing, preparing, refining,

Galvanizing diamond mind,

As flames sear up from root to crown,

Our crucibles

Cleansed in

God’s alchemy.

Winter’s slumber, a quickening.

Come, friends,

Join me,

Retreat,

Listen,

Allow.

 

©2018 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Image, My Patio: ©Barbara Harris Leonhard

New Audio: Listen to the Prayers of Snow
Audio · Poem · Poetry · Reiki · Voices from the Veil

New Audio: Listen to the Prayers of Snow

extraordinarysunshineweaverLeave a comment

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

843AD7E4-738A-4F49-9D17-563250C9381E

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

Clandestine Spirit

extraordinarysunshineweaver2 Comments

Clandestine Spirit

Clandestine Spirit, there is a fold

In the universe for you.

Obscurity hidden, your disguise,

A soul unmanifested,

Cloistered layers of debris of

Expectation and self-deprecation,

Your sparkle diminished into secrets,

 

Fear of scintillating into recognition.

Your flame, unsanctioned,

Unholy fire of dead stars.

What is your jewel to guard,

Entombed truth?

Is this place your urn

Or your womb?

Fear is the breath of sin;

Forgiveness, the gold of God.

Copyright © 2017/10/22 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image: original art “Clandestine Spirit” © Martha Harris See Martha’s Artistic Flarings @artisticflarings.blog

 

 

 

 

 

 

New Audio: Fair Maiden
Audio · Poem · Poetry · Tai Chi

New Audio: Fair Maiden

extraordinarysunshineweaverLeave a comment

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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New Audio: You Sit in Your Garden
Audio · Poem · Poetry · Voices from the Veil

New Audio: You Sit in Your Garden

extraordinarysunshineweaverLeave a comment

You sit in your garden but

Where am I?

You, there, surrounded and protected

By fauna and flora

As you swat at bees

And stomp on ants to cross the grass.

You laugh as you eat Light and

Make merry with companions.

I’m lost to that dream now.

It was not my choice

But an accident, unforeseen.

I was just as wanton and naive.

How little I knew of myself,

Or the sun, the rain, the stars,

Or of the end of time.

I was not ready to leave,

So here I am attached to cold stone

With you only in a haze, and

I cannot speak your name for

Lack of a translation.

Where am I but nowhere.

Who am I but no one.

Night is always; always is night.

I cling to the wall of night

With no release and no joy,

Not even you in your garden

Are ready to know me this way.

Not even lightning knows my name,

For it is a mere flicker to my rage.

I am blind in this abyss, stumbling

To find a guest in this forlorn place,

To find a slice of dawn in endless night, where

I am but a mortar to shadows

As you slumber in your garden.

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

poetry and image (my garden)

IMG_0845

It is My Soul!
Audio · Poem · Poetry

It is My Soul!

extraordinarysunshineweaver2 Comments

The candle light

From the stained glass lamp

Reflected on the walls

Like splashes of stars

Is the lantern to my heart:

It is my Soul.

My Soul is splintering light

Splashed on the shadows of my heart,

The Beacon for my Soul

As the light draws night.

My Soul was once a fading candle

Dripping wax on my heart

And crying out to be lit.

As I light my Soul,

The hues of night

Brighten into day.

What is this dawn?

It is my Soul!

The colors of my Soul

Are hues of purple, blue, and red:

All shades of white,

All shades of black,

All shades of shades.

Without this light,

Where can I go?

‘Where you end is

Where you start.’

Fear, my guide no more;

No rowing on restless waves

Of tears that drown my heart.

Anger set the sail once ago,

But she has met a higher power:

It is my Soul!

There is no map to show me where to go.

But there’s a lamp to light my way:

It is my Soul!

And angels, if you are there,

Please tell me so.

Without this light,

Where can I go?

‘Where you end is

Where you start.’

I’ve never been alone

Though I have felt so,

Letting go my Soul.

And all my grief

Was from this point.

As I denied myself

For others’ sake.

So begins my journey

Out of harm and pain

To live and laugh again.

My Soul, my friend,

So long forgotten,

Now awakened

To the sound of my heart rising

Like the sun

On a crisp morning,

Ready to sail the heavens

On waves of heat,

Evaporating grief

And bitter dreams

From that long, dark night

Of running

From my Soul.

          This spirit song represents the turmoil we often feel as we struggle to find our way to the divine. We must make the choice to affirm our Spirit and invoke it to deliver us to the truth: that by seeking the divine, we find ourselves.

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: http://karenxavsphotography.blogspot.com/2011/07/candle-light.html

 

 

 

 

I Am a Revolution
Audio · Poem · Poetry · Reiki

I Am a Revolution

extraordinarysunshineweaverLeave a comment

I am a revolution

Invoking symbols

Cradling light

Gifted by my Savior,

Whom I met on a path.

 

He emerged from the mist-

At first as my father-

Till angels called

In hymns resounding

A chorus of blue, indigo, violet.

 

From man transformed,

There He stood,

His palms outstretched

And all around Him,

The auras of the ages,

The colors of time,

Silken and white,

Halos with His name.

 

He held them as a ball,

Vibrating colors

Molded into a gift

For my calling.

 

He smiled in gratitude

For my humble offering

To carry good in my heart,

A bucket of blossoms

From seeds yet scattered,

Filling the vessels

For gardens to come

This spring and always.

 

I will walk in His light,

A prismatic path

Lit for onward time.

 

Held gently in His palms,

Which now envelop me,

I feel wrapped in cashmere

Woven by the Mother of Mysteries.

 

He appeared as my father-

Whom He once called in light

To minister to others-

So as not to scare me.

Since His power is so great,

I cannot fathom it.

But it was really Him

This time, and so needed.

 

He whispered many songs,

Harmonious and lyrical,

Such compassion in His hymns

Such grace in His brilliance.

 

I was so blessed and awed

That He would give me these gifts

Wrapped in shimmering colors

With the lace of clouds

And ribbons of rainbows,

Red, orange, yellow,

Fire pure.

 

And innocent was I to think

I would meet a lesser Guide.

 

Why was it for me to find

So great a gift, the Divine.

The answer was clear-

I chose the way that took me there,

For I listened for His call,

And His eyes lit my way.

 

There we stood in words

Of time stopping.

Many truths are yet

To be received and revealed,

Many gems to find

In the rock face of my soul.

 

His words, solid beams

Of empyrean fire are

Dispersed on my heart,

Where He gathered me

And where I will take Him

Back down that path.

 

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image:  https://pixabay.com/en/fire-heart-heart-fire-love-symbol-961194/

fire-heart-961194_960_720

 

 

 

You Sit in Your Garden
Audio · Poem · Poetry · Voices from the Veil

You Sit in Your Garden

extraordinarysunshineweaver8 Comments

You sit in your garden but

Where am I?

You, there, surrounded and protected

By fauna and flora

As you swat at bees

And stomp on ants to cross the grass.

You laugh as you eat Light and

Make merry with companions.

I’m lost to that dream now.

It was not my choice

But an accident, unforeseen.

I was just as wanton and naive.

How little I knew of myself,

Or the sun, the rain, the stars,

Or of the end of time.

I was not ready to leave,

So here I am attached to cold stone

With you only in a haze, and

I cannot speak your name for

Lack of a translation.

Where am I but nowhere.

Who am I but no one.

Night is always; always is night.

I cling to the wall of night

With no release and no joy,

Not even you in your garden

Are ready to know me this way.

Not even lightning knows my name,

For it is a mere flicker to my rage.

I am blind in this abyss, stumbling

To find a guest in this forlorn place,

To find a slice of dawn in endless night, where

I am but a mortar to shadows

As you slumber in your garden.

 

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

poetry and image (my garden)

IMG_0845

 

Upon Attunement
Audio · Poem · Poetry · Reiki

Upon Attunement

extraordinarysunshineweaverLeave a comment

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: https://www.google.com

 

Fair Maiden
Audio · Poem · Poetry · Tai Chi

Fair Maiden

extraordinarysunshineweaverLeave a comment

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.

 

© 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: showing me at a martial arts competition

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