Words

photo by donna, Amsterdam 2005

Words are your tools
Your weapons of choice
Choose carefully to listen
Hear
Seek
To understand and expect
Unexpected truths
Lie beneath the choice

Words are your power
Your wellspring of strength
Wield wisely the confidence gained
Evaluate
Contemplate
Deliberate
Conscience thought dictates
The answer to the question
To empower or to enslave

Words are your opportunity
Your source of inspiration
Brandish passionately to create
Elate
Reveal
The beauty and innocence
To fully embrace

Words are your wings
Your journey unfolding
Soar
Explore
Realize
The blossoms of dreams
The magic of hope
Forever nourishing your soul

White Flowers

photo by donna, San Juan del Obispo, Guatemala 1986

I walk alone in the garden as twilight falls,
Shadows filling the thorn covered walls
Watching the sun go down on the day,
I wonder how things could go so astray

Once filled with the beauty of glorious flowers,
Being ever nourished by fresh Spring showers
The garden once so full of color and delight,
Has somehow become faded, no longer bright

What has caused this barren desert to appear,
Why has the sky become so cloudy and unclear
I tremble and quake as darkness closes in,
A cold sweat breaking out on my skin

From deep within me rises a churning fear,
I try to be strong and shed not a tear
It is too late, I have numbed all my senses,
And put into place all my last defenses

Trying to escape the darkness of this night,
All I feel through the numbness is cold fright
I begin to pray that I will find the path,
For I know I cannot endure any more wrath

I frantically begin to search for a way out,
My mind swimming with troubles and doubt
Making my way through the briers and thistle,
I think I hear what sounds like a whistle

I stop and listen looking into the night,
Off in the distance I see something glowing bright
Slowly, carefully I make my way toward the light,
A sparking of fire within me begins to ignite

The warmth of the fire causing my senses to excite,
I give way to my feelings, I worry not of my plight
Down the garden path I continue hoping that I might,
Find that each and every little thing will be alright

At the end of the path much to my delight,
I find the garden gate is covered in white
Sprays and bouquets of every beautiful white flower,
Placed there by an angel as a beacon of hope and power

White flowers of friendship, affection and love,
Light the way home like the stars above
Today the garden shows no trace,
Of what was once a barren place

No longer when I walk in the garden do I feel alone,
For the harmony of our friendship has blossomed and grown
No longer are there briers and thistle to fight for hours,
The garden is an endless sea of beautiful White Flowers

Written sometime in 2002  for Julia, my friend in St. Petersburg, Russia.  Thank you, Julia, for being my friend... most especially, when I really needed one.  :)

Silent Fires Burn Bright

photo by donna ~ Fuller Lake, Cumberland County, PA 2010

Water of torquiose, blue and black

shimmering like ice slowly melting

in the late Autumn sun

Silent are the time worn secrets

hidden deep below the quarry waters

The smooth lake surface disturbed

only by the faint whisperings

of the undulating mountain air

Standing on the man-made beach

of gritty white sand

I see myself being reflected

in the cold lake waters

The unintentionally

mocking insult

oscillating and 

rippling through me

A dormant fury

beginning to simmer 

deep inside me

Do not hide

behind arrogance and pride

Whilst settling upon answers

to questions of mid-life 

If lacking the sophistication

of the worldly ilk

If speaking the language 

of stammering country folk

Do not be fooled

nor hold out pity 

For silent fires burn bright within me

I am stronger and wiser than you might know

Harvest Moon

Harvest moon illuminates
Powerful mystique
casting illusion
upon the horizon complete

Visions of strangers
amidst friends unknown
Pass in the night
like stars tossed
upon an ocean of light
 
Haunted by memories
not yet mine
Feeling adrift
caught lost in time

Long is the road
when nowhere bound
What lies over the hill
beyond the bend
remains still
To be found

Beauty Beguiles

photo by donna ~ Rocky Mountains, Colorado august 2010

Beware Beauty

when she puts on her mask

For Beauty beguiles

and charms the unexpecting

The unsuspecting

Love is a treasure

to be found in your heart

Not to be held in ransom

Unconditional and true

A treasure for you

Open your eyes

to the words that heal

Listen and hear

and you will see

That love is with you

Unconditional and true

A treasure for you

Always remember

never forget

Beauty beguiles

when she puts on her mask

Robes Of A Sage

As minstrels tell
stories in song
fear not for me
For mine is to listen
To hear the words
you would choose to say

Do not be fooled
by the robes of a sage
The light of wisdom gained
can also be blinding
A place for the
wise to unwittingly hide

Personal pain is released
only when shared
with those who
can feel the wounds
that cut so deep

So tell me your stories
of hurt and pain
For mine is to listen
To hear the words
you would choose to say

Running Free... Like The Wind

photo by donna ~ above Guatemala, Central America 1986

I was with friends and my sisters... we were out walking... enjoying getting across a beautiful country park and gardens... Seeing everything we could see before the end of the day... We decided it would be better if we walked faster as we explored all along the way... We began to trot... then we began to jog... then we began to run... it was fun... 

We were running and seeing a myriad of strange and common things... We were getting closer to being at the other side of the park by the end of day... when darkness would close in... We wouldn't see much of all the whirling world around us...

I discovered that if we shed our clothing and shoes we could run faster ...   We were running barefoot and free of constricting clothing...

As we ran faster and faster, the park filled with natural wonders... We came to a pond covered in water lilies and I was running so fast I was in the middle of the pond... in water up to my neck before I could stop.... I thought of alligators and creatures under the water and turned as fast as I could and tried to swim quietly and very quickly to shore where I had entered the pond... 

Even though it was just as far across to the unknown shore...

All was well and I caught up with my friends and sisters...

One of my sisters said that if she braided my hair, I would be able to run even faster because my hair wouldn't get in my eyes and blind my vision.... I agreed... She and one of the friends braided my hair with beautiful pastel-colored ribbons intertwined...it looked great...

A wind came up as they were doing my hair... They had to fight it a bit but they were able to braid my hair with great success.....We began running again and...

I was in the lead... I was running like I was the wind itself... the ribbons dangled a bit at the ends and fluttered in the breeze as I ran... I liked it... it wasn't distracting at all, but like a challenge to get the colorful ribbons to flutter into my field of vision... The ribbons looked like a rainbow and I was running along it...

I can't remember anything specific that happened next... except my clock radio went off waking me to some unrecognizably hard music...

I would have liked to have stayed running in that dream... it was enlightening and I saw soooooooo much along the way... and I was free...

I was free ...

Morning has broken... 

'Get It Right Next Time' by Gerry Rafferty

In 1975 after graduating high school, I worked at Listening Booth, the local record shop, where it was store policy to play, at least once, every new release that came into inventory.  It was also unwritten policy that the album liner notes were to be read so as to further familiarize ourselves with musical artists, their backgrounds, inspirations, etc., their possible studio associations with one another and to garner general knowledge of the world of music.  What a dream come true for a music devotee.

It was in this way I was first introduced to the music of Gerry Rafferty.

A gifted songwriter/singer whose music blends the styles of Rock and radio-friendly Pop with heavy Folk music influences in the style of personal story telling in a manner to which the listener can relate. Gerry Rafferty may have drawn on his own personal complex dichotomies and experiences in his songs but, as every great songwriter, is able to make his deeply moving lyrics become universal and understood on not only on an intellectual level, but on an empathic level, as well.  Whether by unintended accident or ironic design, Gerry Rafferty speaks to the tortured soul in all of us...

One of my very favorite Gerry Rafferty songs musically and lyrically, Get It Right Next Time from his 1979 album "Night Owl".

A River Familiar

photo by donna, Big Spring Creek, Cumberland County, PA May 2010

Drifting... 

A river familiar

floating the waves of discovery

my own

alone

whispering with the many restless voices

Shadows and strange faces

race along the shore

tripping,

sliding,

rising,

blending into one

Mysterious muse on the move

waiting

just beyond the crowd

beckoning...

'round the curve of the horizon

glowing...

above the tranquility of sunset

glimmering...

below the brilliance of sunrise

shimmering...

amidst the luminance of starshine

elusive...

Wandering shores unknown

never alone,

Yet always on my own

The One

photo by donna ~ Doubling Gap, Cumberland County, PA 2005

Running, running away

feet never touching the ground

through towns more worldly,

more cold

through highland meadows greener,

lonelier

seeking that which waits beyond the borders,

that which couldn't be found

Always running, running while standing still

it's time for a retreat

time to make solitary camp

while wondering, wondering

where to wander next

Finding myself back in the valley I left

so long ago

for the road that leads to somewhere,

anywhere,

but here,

anywhere but home

forever looking for the one,

the one that couldn't be found

The road circles back on me

feeling too much like a rolling stone

yearning for a solid foundation

to cease the restlessness,

to ease the pain

of forever running,

running to nowhere

Stopping to catch my breath

and look back from the mountaintop

gazing down on the valley

wondering if I could fly

instead of run

would life have been different,

that special life,

the one which couldn't be found