HIDDEN WINGS

Hidden Wings

This morning as the sun arose
I saw a little bird fly in,
blessing my garden with its grace.

It fed among flowers and seeds
without hurry or greed,
leaving enough for the friends.

Suddenly he hopped up to my patio door,
turned his head side to side, studying me;
I was feeding too.

I could hear him tweet, you can also fly,
your wings are hidden within.
Just trust and you will rise;
Higher each time.

I tried this once before, when I was a girl,
I thought my arms too thin, no wings at all.
Now I wonder, does he mean my spirit wings?

Could I soar and dip and swing
if I trust the wings within.

Why don’t we all give it a try.

© miriam ivarson

Can You Hear

Can You Hear

Can you hear them. Million voices
calling out in fear and pain,
Can you feel their agony;
Their loss of hope and faith.

Can you hear them calling
as sickness sweeps the world;
As bombs drop and missiles fly.

Can you hear their pain?

Can you see them,
the suffering and dispossessed?
Can you tell why it should be so?

Words turn to a trickle, a whisper
As another tragedy hits mankind, the Earth.

Is it then wrong to remember, we only have here and now,
so let us hear the flowers sing sweetly
part of nature’s orchestration.

May one day we hear the million voices sing;
Singing songs of freedom and joy.
Call me a dreamer if you wish, so be it.

© miriam ivarson

Oceans and Seas

Oceans and Seas

How you enchant me, bewitch;
With your song so powerful and true
at times whispering sweet
at times roaring with incredible might.

This day you decided to play
Orchestrate every pebble on a shingle beach,
As each wave rolled them towards the shore
then withdrew, returning again.

And again, and again,
hypnotizing and bewitching tunes.

Today you were playful, I was grateful
as this was my first trip out, in a year and a half;
The joy to meet again was beyond words.

With your friend, the wind, you can cause
Hurricanes, tsunamis but also gently roll,
Tickle my toes along the surf.

I love you ocean and sea, thanks for still being you,
Powerful, yet kind.

© miriam ivarson

Where does time go

Where does time go

does it go, is our perception askew?
What if time just is? Always there.
Moving like the clouds, like the waves

Being always time, sky and sea.

What about us? Are we just living linear
or are we fluent too?
Always part of the Stars, the Universe, Earth,
living all the time.

Don’t let us limit ourselves with numbers and dates.

Live in peaceful meditation or stormy dance
in Love, always in Love.

With tears when they come and smiles of a child.

© miriam ivarson

Age Old Song

Age Old Song

I walked down to the harbour today
drawn by the scent of the sea;
Before me I saw a scene of life and strength.

Trawlers had arrived back
from their week long work at sea,
from fishing and other lands.

Laughter, strength and sheer vitality;
Filled the air with age old song.

I loved it down there, watching and listening
keeping myself out of the way.
My father knew where I was and gave me a wink,
came and lifted me to the sky.

They loved their work, these men of the sea,
it was hard but they were strong and free.
Their stories fascinated me.

As the men withdrew to BOA,
a centre for repairing nets and making new,
for sharing news and laughs, bellyfuls.
It was also where the Storyteller held forth.

Fantastic stories and wisdoms held all enthralled,
as hands flew at tasks and laughter rose.

In the homes women happily worked,
cooking and singing;
Their men were safely home.

At BOA work and stories paused
as husbands and fathers longed
for their women, children. For home.

Happy as a bird I walked home
my little hand in pappas hand, so strong and safe.

Reaching home my mamma held her arms outstretched,
pappa lifted her up and walking around
sang her a song of love and fun;
A song all his own.

All five chicks following them around
waiting patiently for their turn.

Such joy reigned in our abode.

© miriam ivarson

THE MANTLE

THE MANTLE

Write, my friend, write
Let your heart pour forth,
with honesty tell your truth.

May your words always be interspersed
with threads of gold,
weaving life, shining into your thoughts.

Into your woven cloth.

With silver moon beams,
Do the same
let them shimmer in dark corners,
lighten your mind.

These threads of gold and silver rays
Represent love and hope;
Without, your cloth will dull and die.

Once created, keep it as your mantle,
Your blanket;
So you will never forget,

The importance of light

© miriam ivarson

THE COIN

THE COIN

I saw a coin, inscribed FEAR
Lying there in the mud,
I picked it up and felled
tears of sadness for mankind.

Turning the coin around a wonder happened
my tears washed the mud away,
It now shone and said HOPE
.

This is what I now wish for you and me
Hope in good for Earth and us.

© miriam ivarson

Unravelling Emotions

Unravelling Emotions

I am in shock with all this relaxation
my friend said to me this morning;
Startled I thought, how could that be?

Could all the tight knots have unravelled too fast,
causing emotions to swing – all lose;
Even a bit giggly or softly smiling

As again she could feel, happiness and breeze.

It took a long gentle sleep filled with dreams,
Dreams of clouds forming shapes in the sky
of walks on soft sand along the sea.

No frightening numbers filled the morning today,
just joy of being, simply being alive.
To see white doves on neighbours roof
and small birds busy feeding in the garden,

On feeders my friend filled last night.

© miriam ivarson

Pinprick of Blue

Pinprick of Blue

Each morning I stand for a while in awe,
in front of the windows facing East.
I drink into my being the wonder of Sun’s rise;
Gradually the beauty colours my inner Self.

As the sun dramatically but calmly spreads its rays
filling the sky in glorious hues,
Colours that give praise
superior to the flight of words.

How lucky I am to share this rhythmic splendour
as Earth and sun dance.

I have seen it over oceans, over mountains
Over forests and fields,
over rooftops in hamlets and towns.

I still dream of seeing
the sun rise over desert dunes.

And yet, from Mars, our planet is but a pinprick,
pale blue , they say.
I would be homesick.
Simply loving Earth too much.

© miriam ivarson

Forest Walk

Forest Walk

Walking the wood today
I felt pain from the beauty filling me,
I wondered why do I write when I can never express,
totally share its wonder in big and small.

I asked the Birch, I asked the Pine
put my hands on their strong trunks.
They gave me solace and calm. they gave me love.
But not in words, so how can I ever tell.

I kneeled on the forest floor, stroked the soft green moss,
also talked to the dryer green /grey ones;
I could feel their whispers and gentleness
enticing me to rest a while.

Words come when they are grown
let awareness and love fill your inner self.

Walking further on the forest floor
birds were talking in their beautiful, singing way
wisely and happy treasuring life,
also feeling grief when trauma strikes.

I also met an Elk, so majestic and still,
seemed to exude consciousness and peace;
He spoke through his stillness and eyes.

I hope one day to speak as clearly as them,
lift spirits as they did mine.

© miriam ivarson