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

T I M E / L I F E

T I M E / L I F E

I remember when I became Ten,
two digits instead of one.
The cake glittered with candles
I filled my lungs and blew them all out.

Making a wish to become hundred
and wear a big white hand crocheted shawl.

Perhaps I would need help to blow the candles out.

Then there was sixteen and twenty-one
not to forget the growing in between and forth.
As time flowed by, I felt sometimes it stood still
at others it skipped like a brook.

Plans fell through for some events,
replaced by a new surprise.
Life just is, Is.
Flying high or sinking low.

A journey of miraculous dimensions.

on Earth, through Cosmos it dances.
Magic beyond belief.

© miriam ivarson

Masked Smile

Masked Smile

Baffled I stood there,
outside the big surgery
that dispensed Vaccine to the chosen;
A smoothly running conveyor belt.

Each one stood on colourful circles
two meters apart.
One circle line running in
One running out.

Behind a desk a friendly lady sat,
she asked my name and how I was,
I realized our voices can smile too.

Whilst behind our masks we smile
Hoping our eyes will convey,
care and togetherness.
Shared fear and hope.

© miriam ivarson

Silence Spoke

Silence Spoke

Lightly the white fluffy flakes were falling
Outside my patio doors,
I opened and stepped out
Stood there for a wh
ile.

The soft snowflakes melted on my face;
Cold but exhilarating.
Silence, mystic silence prevailed,
yet it spoke.

Spoke in quiet tones, of peace.

Nature has so many sounds,
I love them all;
The patter of light rain, the storms,
the breeze through the trees;

Whispers and roars show life on Earth
its indomitable resonance and tenacity.

Now I feel and hear the silence
of pure white snow whirling from the sky,
I cherish the hush,

I cherish the wisdom of old.

© miriam ivarson

SURPASSING

SURPASSING

There are feelings beyond expressions,
Emotions that can never in words be told
be it in poetry or prose;
Feelings above music and song.

All these mediums and more,
can light the flame;
Make your spirit soar beyond,

To where only rapture resides,
Thoughts suspended.

To where you can feel an ecstasy
Emotion beyond a name.
Where you want to stay and fly free;

Also cry the tears you hidden,
tears, also without name.
Cleansing in their own purity.

Moments of epiphany.

© miriam ivarson

Mystic Gauze

Mystic Gauze

They say it is freezing fog today
yet through my window I see mystic gauze,
coloured in softest pink;
Surely from the sun behind.

It seems that each time the light shines,
our hearts take flight.

I wonder if the birds freeze?

Indoors a Christmas Rose shines
lit by the sun,
warming hearts, spreading smiles.
A gift to us all.

Wrapping some presents I hum
Yet, realize the best this year
is unwrappable.

The gift of protecting our fellow man
and ourselves,
So we can all meet again.

More caring than ever before.

© miriam ivarson

Shimmering Globe

Shimmering Globe

Are we both vulnerable and strong
however contradictory this sounds?
Fragile in a world of dissonance
Yet strong in our love of planet Earth.

Its extraordinary patience and beauty
in spite of human’s foibles and selfish ways.
Are we destructive, yet also dreamers?

Did we lose our way; our purity
in hunt of falsely glittering symbols?
Did we forget the joy of a touch, a smile;
The comfort of a shared laugh.

Don’t think we are masters of this
shimmering globe;
Our home among the stars.
We are but a blessed part.

Let us live the dream of harmony,
Harmony between oceans, land and mankind.

© miriam ivarson

Broken Wings

Go back and take care of yourself. our body needs you, your
feelings need you. The wounded child in you needs you. Go home
and be there for these things. Practice mindful walking and mindful
breathing. Do everything in mindfulness so you can love. by Thich Nhat Hanh

Well, my dear friends out there who so inspire me from all corners
of the world. I very much love reading Thich Naht Hahn and other
thinkers.
Yet, on 5th September I didn’t heed these wise words. Not watching
my way I got entangled and took a dramatic flight up over the patio
which caused a number of broken bones.

Ambulance whisked me away to hospital where I had operation etc.
Two weeks later I was allowed home with help organised as in many ways
I was still helpless. Day by day I do improve and feel gratitude.

Broken bones
Surgeons skillful knife,
Accident or haste?
Caring hands.

Price to pay in pain
Scars and Cast
Lesson to be learnt

Love and care the balm
Given in abundance
from family and friends;
Best medicine of all.

Power of love heals.

© miriam ivarson

TREASURES

TREASURES

You wonder what the two pieces
of driftwood
means to me.
They had casually been thrown up on the shore.

Pieces of beauty that travelled far
they have so much to tell
Of oceans, people, fear and hope.

If I were a painter with the fame of Van Gogh
I might paint it so you could see.
It is not just discarded wood.

They were polished by life
Roughened by salt and sand

Battered whilst still in human domain.

I shall sand them, gently polish
with natural oil.
Then make an honoured corner with
Driftwood and shells.

© miriam ivarson

photos by miriam ivarson