Audio · Micropoetry · Poem · Poetry

New Audio: Crossing

Crossing a river can be like birth,
Dragged you are, down and around,
Only to burst out of the ripples,
Clean and nubile,
Wiggling to stretch
And grasp at the light for a line.
Washed and flung ashore,
Snapping off the memories
Like broken branches ready for the pyre,
You awake to recognition.

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: https://www.google.com

 

Audio · Poem · Poetry

I Call to the Dawn

I am wasted by the weather

In a hastened death by wind,

Surrounded by a dream cloud gray,

And made to rest in the rain.

 

The umber bark of night limbs listen

To my fevered songs of lonely truth,

Which the stars do not grasp in sight,

And I feel for a sign of God.

 

So I turn to the meadow

And search in the moonlight.

I appease the black bird

To release the white.

 

At last, I find a tortuous path;

My footsteps deep in fog so thick

That I barely see it nudging me

At my side, the Dawn.

 

I call to the Dawn

And hold it tenderly.

It opens so softly;

I feel its vast stillness.

 

I tiptoe silently

Through and beyond

Each misty droplet

On its dewy plain.

 

Then as my hand slices

Its crystal breath,

I reach to kiss

The morning haze.

 

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: https://www.pixelstalk.net/foggy-forest-backgrounds-free-download/

untitled

 

Audio · Poem · Poetry

Spirit Guide Me

I.

Spirit guide me in this prayer.

Listen to my Heart song.

If You are there,

I am here by the pond,

Near an altar where

I raised my hands

And gathered You.

 

So now I listen to Your song.

Who am I here

But just a voice

Growing louder in Your words.

The sunlight falls like rain

On my Heart so thirsty

For the cup that holds the light.

 

I walk the path that winds

Around the labyrinth of my soul

To find the Heart of You,

Warm to touch, and so I do

Gather You and fill the cup

For just a taste to last

An age of a day to contemplate

My Heart and Soul,

My dust to dust.

 

Around me are the fallen leaves,

Iced then thawed this day

Of spring midst winter’s blister,

The trees warmed and stretching

With help from a rustling breeze

Of healing light held by stones

On this path to You.

 

And when You call,

No need to shout, now that

The door is opened to my Heart,

Which Shadow hid so long.

That door she could not close it right,

And from that crack, I felt the light

And could not turn away.

 

II.

Shadow, listen. You are vain

To think You know my real name.

We were mismatched from the start.

You grew like vine work on my Heart.

The vines like fear entangled me.

And sapped my Soul –

No nurture there –

And I felt like dry earth

Under crisp grass,

Parched, yellow, twisted

Crumbling in Your breath.

 

You called me Friend, and so I listened;

I had no choice, I thought

You were right.

And I waited for Your promise

To quench my thirst.

But the vines only tightened,

And I felt no air to speak

In that vacuum in the

Underbrush of my Heart,

Where worms of deceit

And grubs of despair

Made pathways in my hair.

And jealousy took hold in my eyes,

Once lanterns to my heart,

But now cold candles of you, Shadow.

 

There, no light, I worried,

Yet no tears could spill

From this dry vessel,

Just a fossil or an artifact

Of my Child Soul overgrown

In this infertile soil

Of my Shadow Soul.

 

And so You held me

Like a captive

With nowhere to go.

And so I feared that doorway

To my Soul.

And Spirit whispered so,

So I dare not say no

To this light breaking

The day lock on my Soul

 

III.

Spirit’s breath like crystals

Melting on my hungry lips.

The vines, now dry,

Like shackles falling to my heels.

I emerge, stretching upward

Like a candle flame of

Blue searing gold,

Gold searing orange.

 

Now I am pink and fresh

With tender skin

Warm, moist, unbruised

By Shadow’s grip.

And on my tongue

New words of Spirit’s songs.

 

IV.

So now I lay me down to sleep

In Spirit’s arms

Bundled in her lullabies.

Like Psalms to the Heavens,

The Truth unfolds its wings

Into many angels

Spiraling into the light.

They hold me close,

And in their stories,

I see myself in many colors.

I am crystal;

I am water;

I am memory

I am now;

I am tomorrow;

I am.

 

 

Copyright © Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: Pixabay.com

 

Audio · Poem · Poetry

Crossing

Crossing a river can be like birth,
Dragged you are, down and around,
Only to burst out of the ripples,
Clean and nubile,
Wiggling to stretch
And grasp at the light for a line.
Washed and flung ashore,
Snapping off the memories
Like broken branches ready for the pyre,
You awake to recognition.

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image:  http://www.americanrivers.org

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