Thou Art Mine!

Thou Art Mine!

I had just watched a wonderful television programme about the Bronte siblings, famous for their literary works and poetry. This inspired me to call in a channel with Spirit to write a poem using old-fashioned language. It tries to convey the majesty and awe of the mountains in words which are not of my making.

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O mountainous glory thou art mine!
Whose velvet carpeting affords
Soft repose to weary limbs.
Whose lithesome wind
Caresses each pore,
Gladly surrendering.
Where an outstretched hand
May touch Infinity
And embrace it within.

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O mountainous wonder thou art mine!
Whose poets and artists
Have long pondered life
And sought to imbue it with light.
Whose skylines are traced
With creative imaginings
Preserving God’s masterpiece in time.

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Christmas Wishes

hand-683909__480 I don’t need any more sparkly gifts but it’s lovely to receive them all the same.  But for me this coming year it’s important to give as well as take.  Just taking three of the things mentioned above, I need to consume less (that means less shopping from that large online retailer with its mountains of unnecessary packaging!!); I need to share more (stop holding on to money, time, things – just give) and I need to recycle and upcycle more instead of just throwing things away and buying shiny new replacements.   It’s nearly Christmas and I wish you all the most joyful of holiday times with family around you.  Remember, next time you tut at whiskers left in the sink, be grateful that you have him; next time you get annoyed at the dogs barking, be grateful that you have them; next time your body lets you down, be grateful that you have it all the same.  Much love! x

A Mother’s Lament

Estimated Reading time:   5 mins.
The following poem was inspired by a BBC television programme about life on the remote Scottish island of Fair Isle (famous for knitwear!).  As the island is so tiny, pupils are only taught up to the age of 11, after which time they then have to attend boarding school on the neighbouring island of Shetland.  The torment I witnessed on the faces of the parents was heartbreaking: having to be separated from their children at such an early age for weeks at a time.  These lines try to convey the torment of the mother, whose inner child eventually cries out to her Father (God) to ease her pain.  Hope you enjoy the poem.  Share it on your fb page only if you do.

A Mother’s Lament

The boat to the isles
ferries you away from me
churning up foam in a carefree goodbye.
Unlike I. Here I stand
naked to the core
half-drowning in emotions
swelling up inside me.
Jack-knifed by opposing currents
of longing and letting go
of holding on and setting free.

How will you be on your return?
will you race to my embrace
all open-arms and giddiness?
Still the child I recognise.
Or will the weeks apart
have steadied your heart?
Given you sea legs to walk
your own path.

The foam-tossed waters
sail you away from me.
their precious cargo now
hidden from view.

I turn and return to my life left in stasis –
chickens to feed, ewes to shear,
land to tend, hours to spend
casting wistful glances at clocks fairislesheep Hoping that time will somehow zoom
into fast-forward,
bringing you safely back to me.

Rasping shallow breaths come:
I’m panicking.
“I can’t do this. It’s too difficult.
It’s too soon.”
The separation so intense,
I’m breaking.
Disintegrating into disparate shards
then buffering endlessly,
somnambulant,
unable to reconfigure
this new life today.

I wrap both arms around my shattered core
and murmur tenderly, fairisleharbour “One minute, one hour, one day at a time.”
The child in me screams a plaintiff cry
to be gathered up in comforting arms
nestled snugly against Your chest
alive to Your heartbeat
soothing my breath.
Tomorrow will be a better day.

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This Time Around

I didn’t have children in this lifetime and spent many lost years mourning and regretting this loss. It ate away at me on the inside like a cancerous cell, infecting neighbouring cells with its self-destruct button.   It affected my relationships, imbuing them with a whole range of negative emotions like spite, jealousy and apathy. It affected my health, contributing to anxiety, depression and physical pain. But once I started meditating and doing spiritual reading and practice, the certainty of reincarnation washed the stain of this sorrow from my heart and I felt free and healed. I was certain that I had been a parent in many lifetimes but that I had chosen a different set of challenges this time around! I still have a deep longing to give and nurture life, and I do this in many ways: caring for our two dogs, caring for the birds in our garden, tending plants and flowers, harvesting fruit from our fruit trees, passing on fruit and vegetables to neighbours, supporting dogs charities and so on and so on…. A wonderful way to help others live a fuller life is through donating my organs when I have no further need of them.  I know that I have taken from others throughout my life (emotionally, financially, physically etc.), so I want to give a second chance of life to another when I am finished with this body.   If this is of interest to you, do some research, have the conversation with your loved ones and sign up for organ donation today. I hope the poem speaks to your heart! Much love.

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This Time Around
I didn’t give birth to new life this time around
I had other challenges to face.
But know that when I discard this earthly shell
I shall give life aplenty in my passing.
If these eyes may give sight to another, then take them.
If this heart may beat in another, so have it.
If these kidneys may revitalise another, why wouldn’t I?
For I have no need for these things now.
I’m going home…to the wonderful realm of thought.
I’m going home…to the kaleidoscopic eternal bliss.
I’m going home…to awaken from the sleep state of earthly life.
So don’t grieve for this body.
Look in the eyes of another – I am there.
Feel the beating heart of another – I am there.
See the vitality spring forth in another – I am there.
Be happy and share in my joy
For I did give birth to new life this time around.

*****

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