Threads

Weaving threads of stories told
Ferris wheels all lined with gold
Heraldry as times of old
Woodland creatures in the fold.
The Horned God plays his pan flute
The dryads’ dance is resolute
With steps that call the lambs cute
And chase the rain down waterfall’s chute.
Pagan circles claim the holy ground
In which Tuatha de Danaan are found
Flittering, flying, floating around.
We dare not breathe, not to make a sound.
The aged forests, glens and vales
Are alive once again as the moon pales.

In the World

I hear the echoes in my mind
The voices cheer and jeer and call to me
From little ones who cannot speak
To those too old and tired and weak
And we reach out together holding hands
And the world is our garden growing green.
Today may we take a step for freedom
Tomorrow we may finally find our voice
And then perhaps we’ll walk
Soon enough we’ll even talk—to each other! Yes!
The sun will come arising o’er the lake
Our hearts so filled with love, but they won’t break
We are united in our love
For our sisters and our brothers
In the world!

Little Hands

My hands are small, this I know, God,

My heart is filled with enough love
To help those who have lost their way
A sign from you, the feather of a dove,
Would show me that your strength
Your guidance and your grace is behind me
Whatever difficulties fall to block my path
So I ask, Dear God, that you work with me
To clear away the boulders, as well as the chaff,
That with my pockets that aren’t so deep
And my mind, as I tend to weep
My stress and distress as I lose my sleep
That you would be the force to carry me through
As I know I do not heal, it is all You.

Science In Our Time

The things we learn from science
When we add up all the figures
Helps to understand how fragile
Are the bits and bobbles that comprise us
Yet when we hear of phantom limbs
Of pain in something that’s not even there
It surely does surprise us.
But the miracles is, once they know
That something’s broken deep inside
They can do the miraculous things
We used to think were acts of God
But now our scientists can fix it.
Though you never know who steadies the hand,
Who gives the eyes a brighter gleam,
To tell what tissue’s done its job
What clot of blood now blocks the way
I like to think the Holy Spirit guides
Through quiet power
And let’s man know in subtle ways
What genius lasts the hour.

Private Place

My feet sweep along the stone path
That leads to my private place
A pond, so clears, so silvery,
It beckons me to come, to look
And as I make my way through the palm fronds
I breathe in the essence of renewal, rebirth
Then I kneel at the edge of the water
And catch a glimpse of the full moon
As she hovers overhead, gifting her sparkling image
In the pond’s face along with mine.
I can see beyond the moment,
I can see beyond the now, the yesterday
And the answers I seek play out
Like a movie of truth, bringing me wisdom
Bringing me knowledge and understanding
Bringing me to a place of harmony with the Mother.