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




Whispering Magic


Falling Dreams

through the afternoon
a simple dream
of fallen leaves
against the autumn sky


In My Dreams

I wander
the trails
of my imagination



late autumn rain
a final scent of summer
rushing through red leaves
a moment of lightness
reliving my broken dreams


rippling in the bay
her heavy heart


blood moon
I see myself
more clearly-
his grip on me
finally gone


early morning
my mind in a haze
of wildflowers


poppy petals dance
in afternoon breeze








Dreams and Silver Coins

all those dreams-
instead I count
falling stars


hawk feather
the weight of her words
trailing mountain peaks


shooting star
our conversation
takes a turn..


western sun the way it soothes me warm concrete


all my wishes
the sparkle
of silver coins


crescent moon
tracing the outline
of my broken dreams


scrambling for the last drop of crumbs lost lover


I spiral
into a dream

To Mountain Top

a dream
in and out of consciousness
pink azaleas

mountain reservoir
I breathe in
a bit of sunset

ancient temple
newlyweds pray
to Parijaat tree

filling the void
she writes and writes

broken hearted
the depth inside
a blooming tulip

soaring hawk
I follow the way
to mountain top