The Wounded Healer

I woke with old wounds
fresh, like the sharp scent
of newly cut flowers

These scars carried for life times
I finally embrace and hold you
with compassion, and forgiveness

I hold your weight
a lump in my throat
an ache in my chest
needs unmet
voices unheard
fiery temper:

the child hiding in fear

I cradle the stinging edges
of my backside
I take in the sheer blunt force of your words

I am the wounded healer
I choose to breathe in peace
to allow the golden light of spirit and source
comfort the torn edges inside
with love and understanding

I take in the brilliance
allow my roots to flow into the center of the universe
where I am safe and perfect

I am the wounded healer

 

 

Compassion

Spirit Love 

Kindness 

Falling Stars

star after star
how beautiful
are the fallen ones

My Real Name

My real name is Blue Eyes and the light of the universe has shined through them from the very beginning.
My mother calls me Fear like when you are about to jump into the unknown.
My husband calls me New Beginnings; a new day with hot sweet coffee.
My daughter calls me Bright Smile, I take in the scent of her long blond hair.
The skies call me Colorful; purple and orange wildflowers covering the side of the hill.
The river calls me Gentle-the white calla lily growing on its banks.
The hawk calls me Brave, I hear in its cries over head.
My father calls me Sorrow, his little girl with curls crying, bruised, and afraid.
My past calls me Broken, however Chicago calls me Resilient and Strong.
San Francisco calls me Beautiful, I am healing and accepted.
God calls me Bright Light and the love of the universe shines through my soul.

Small Things

my tears…
rose petals
against a pond

garden Buddha
in its palms
fallen petals

spring morning
grey sparrows
in the tree tops

late spring my thoughts drift bumblebee

tiny fountain
the stillness
of a fern

rosemary-
the way the sun sets
across her back

koi pond
iridescent
fills the sky

preschool graduation
a yellow monarch
flies ahead of us

oak tree shadow
once the song
of grey sparrow

lingering breeze
on her gravestone
butterfly

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