Orison
Raven aura, rising smoke like embered sage That lifts our prayers And clears a space for wisdom’s deepest well. Our dreams, preserved like hearts In your canopic jars, await Their timeless repercussions, resurrection. You wax and wane and wax again,…
My Muse
My muse is a chimera, A shapeshifter. Sometimes she is a seaglass genie Pouting in a bottle, Or a dear friend’s hug (Perhaps even a lover). I have seen her ablaze as a sunset, Coral tinged as dawn. She has…
She’s Here
Silence came rushing in Like a blanket of peace Spreading through my mind and body And I welcomed Her. © 2021 Gail Barrie
‘COSMIC PLAY’…. a new day, new year, new world.
At 16, I made my first acrylic painting in high school art class. It was a vista from my imagination… a meadow with three trees and colorful sky. I poured myself into that painting over weeks, or months, I can’t…
Quiet Winter Moments
Breathe into the hush Of quiet winter moments Where tranquil thought forms Laze and lull weary synapses Into a space of resting pleasure. Sense the cordial hum And let yourself become part of An expanse of symphonic sensation Touched by…
Choice Point
Moving beyond the rugged road I claim a peaceful path Where ease takes hold Encouraging light to lead the way. © 2020 Gail Barrie
Advent
Advent was a time when autumn days Swerved away from half clad trees, Their heaps of burning tannin-incensed leaves Sent smoking toward a hush of colder air. We waited for the first snow. We waited for the leap to earth…
Fireside Chat Between The Grinch and God/dess
How can it be, That You, Love me? Outrageously, abidingly, eternally, For no reason. ‘Tis the season, To know, How this can be so. No strings, No bling, No heavy hands, Not a single demand. How can the likes of…
Baby Love Being
Hard to imagine I was once so small New to this world With a vast journey of creation awaiting My unique touches. We all begin this way Tiny dreamers being dreamed By Love Everlasting Into earthly life, with its riches…
December 4, 2020: To Mom with Love and Missing
Today you would have turned ninety-nine. I often wonder what you were like When you were, say, twenty-three. Did you go through the same unrest as me, Desire for roots, for a place like a tree Of your own? When…
