District 23 Member Writings
Contact the webmaster should you have a submission: Dianne Fair
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Journal
of a Solitude ( a Meditation ) Forever flowing great river At the centre In the peace In the silence, the solitude Of our lives. Here we walk free To touch all our secret Hopes and dreams, Our most sacred of moments. A soul full Far beyond religion, Beyond the farthest stars, Deeper than The greatest of great chasms, Windfall and rainfall, The soft dew on softest grasses, Purest of song, Happiest of memory Where we fly free, unencumbered Above bitterest cold and storm, Shadow, loss, and death. Lead us Deep within the deepest Far beyond a world Of cruelty, mistrust, And bloodied war. A place of grace and beauty Happy memory And strongest love, A place of peace Far far away From nightmare, The cruel storms of fate And circumstance. Uplifted free spinning Forested land of dreams Green shining leaf and bough, Storm swept cathedral, Home of the free flying wind Darkened shores and lifting shadow, Waves dashed in silver and cobalt The overwhelming, The dark moan high up Of leaf and branch hidden Deep within a calling sky. Oh land of searching wilderness And lucent dreams Land of hope, happy memory Purest of places, The wild, the free, Conqueror of time and loss. Let us hold again The lost moments Of a long lifetime Confide secrets of the wounded, Assuage the pain Of too many things too long unsaid, undone. Hold each other against the raging storm The dark memories of the too often, The half lived hours and days. The forest is wild and deep The long hard path strewn in thorn And bramble, But high above The cry of soaring hawk, the eagle, The song of a resting dove. Far far from the slavery Of malign history, To roam wide and free Overcome by the beauty Of the still moment In a deepening silence. To walk along rocky stream bed Under the cool spray Of a full pouring waterfall Refreshed Baptism of solitude And the peace, the joy Purest meditation. Here to fly free In a world unencumbered Without time, care, loss, or longing. Bev Gorbet, August 2011 |
Reruns My big sister Protector, confidante Mother, scolder Betrayer, controller. Submission of autonomy The toll for acceptance. Refuse to forfeit? Access denied ! Marking your dying (with grief and relief), I shudder as your son Drapes control in gentle tones To mask his iron stakes. Your daughter’s worrying warnings Ricochet within the car interior. Here the legacy. Patterns of control. Reruns. Joyce Arnsby, January 2, 1997 |