Phoenix

phoenix feather

The bleeding starts
and runs right through,
piercing all the hearts,
staining the very clothes
that kept it out of sight
and silent in the world
where it so violently wanted sight
and to be seen,
and so she opened up the wound,
made it visible to those who once turned away,
and striking a pose of resistance,
cried her faithful tears
until the bleeding had to stop,
and in its place
and from her death
the great red bird rose and flew,
freedom on its wings,
all she ever wanted,
all her bloody heart ever knew

©SpiritLed 2017

Emerging

Emerging2

When did they first clip your wings?
When did you go to fly,
Like you’d done so many times before
And instead of soaring,
Fell, lifeless, to the ground?

When did you learn that flying high
Is too threatening for some,
So you shouldn’t – you didn’t – fly at all?

And when did that moment come,
When the pain of not flying,
The phantom pain of forgotten wings,
Became too much to bear?

When did you no longer have a choice but continue to suffer
Or uncover that which had seemingly been lost,
To delicately unfold those withered wings,
Longing for devotion,
And see if they could still hold
The weight of your dreams?

©SpiritLed 2017

Gathering of the Flame

Attraction

This light, so hard to carry
This light, so difficult to bear

At times, more a burden than a blessing
More a challenge than an easy road

And yet our hearts still call us to the flame
As moths endure their sacred dance

To fly despite the burning
Strip down the wings but not the character

Nor the pollination of beauty,
Keeping light alive

Even with burnt wings
Even when hope seems futile

The gathering of the flame
Is our birthright and our quest

©SpiritLed 2017

The Still of Dawn

Colorful panoramic sunrise in the mountains landscape. Dramatic morning sky.

In the still of the dawn
When the haze of slumber is still upon the world
Creatures start to come alive
Light hints of its arrival on the horizon
Shadows seem to whisper to the moon
And to our hearts

Those of us who dare to rise so early
And take in the gentle stirrings of the ‘morn
Feel the veil lift from midnight’s spirits
As day turns into work, worry, and stress
With the occasional brush of wings on the back of a hand
A gentle reminder of the peace of dreams
And the freedom of the hazy dawn

©SpiritLed 2016

Scattered Pieces of My Soul

Heart of dried petals of tea rose on blue background

As the sun rises again
The scattered pieces of my soul,
Strewn on the winds of time and change,
On waves of great pain and greater loss,

They call to me
Their voices lifting, lilting
Raising in vibration
To the tune of my own song

Calling, calling
Calling me home

And Spirit reaches out
Expands to embrace the rising chorus,
Gathers the lost children making their homes
In other people’s worlds

Raises its mighty wings with the rising light
And gently, tenderly assembles
My scattered, tattered bits,
My worthiness and belonging,

My gratified, satisfied soul,
Returned to perfect wholeness

©SpiritLed 2016