White Dove and Rowan tree

IMG_2043

White Doves and Rowan Tree

Circling above, are
Snow White Doves
against cerulean sky.

Against red Rowan berries,
Tree so huge against the heavens.

How bravely they trust their wings,
Their precious gifts.
I dream my spirit would fly
with the confidence of their wings..

So I pack a little suitcase
With all courage I can find
and take to the air.
Suddenly I think of impossibility;

And the bag spills courage to the ground.

The birds perch on a rooftop so near,
telling me not to give up, how sweet.
I pack more courage and just go,
Not thinking at all.

This time I lasted a long while,
what glory and joy
To soar for a while and know,
just feel, fear and weight dropping off.

I will practice this soaring each day,
The white doves promised to help.
You are welcome to join should you wish.

miriam ivarson

 

 

HOLD THE HELM

cruise-ship-87268__340

HOLD THE HELM

Fear, pride and joy filled my being
I was only eight when my father said;
Come here and stand on this box,
I will show you how to steer 
whilst I check the machines below.

The trawler was huge, how could he trust,
a little girl standing on a box?
I trusted him, but fear was putting up a fight;
Sure I can’t do this, look at the waves,
the enormous rolling waves.

Still, I listened to his instructions, drank them in;
Repeated the beacon to hold in sight.
Excitement and joy overtook me for a while
as the boat did obey my hands on the mighty wheel;

I could hardly believe; My pride grew miles.

Suddenly the vessel was shifted by waves,
my mark disappeared to the right,
Fearful I managed to steer back on course,
took a deep sigh but tension replaced trust.

Another big wave threw me off course;
Now the marker was to the left,
desperately I steered straight again,

I am afraid we wove a wavering path.

When finally, to my relief, my father came back
I was quick to relinquish the helm.

We turned our heads and looked at the path,
the swirling trail behind.
The path I had steered the ship, with my hands.
He smiled and gave me a hug.

You tried so hard but didn’t know how to trust,
the wave would bring you straight back,
Besides, I was always there and felt every move.

Keep your eyes steady on your goal
but relax as well
don’t forget to trust yourself,

also remember, I am always there.

Should a storm blow up, sail against it,
hold firm and ride it out,
Once it is over, return to your goal;
To your beacon.

Without fear continue your path,
Feel the harmony between yourself,
the sea and the sky.

© miriam ivarson 

lighthouse-1209856__340

Compromise

fork-2115485__340

COMPROMISE

Will it shatter our dreams
or is it at times the only way?
To reach the ultimate,
should we walk a straight or a winding route?

Noticing how the old horse and cart weaved
a route with so many bends;
Still, he reached the dream and destination
of the traveller he carried abroad;

With some fun compromises thrown in.

As I drive our straight and black motorways
without compromise leading to my goal,
little sensory distraction on the way;
I wonder which route, was most humane?

A little compromise here and there
to smell the sweet clover or bypass a hill,
enjoy a picnic, listen to nature around.
Compromise or plan, it is our choice.

At the end, might it depend on the dream?
For some it is the journey, the lesson within,
for others, the dream to reach and expand.

No rights or wrongs as long as we are true,
True to our dreams and let compromise be part.

© miriam ivarson

valley-2754876__340

Dignity in Storm

DSC01093 (1)

Dignity in Storm

The Poplar, so statuesque 
reaching for the sky,
in its richness and elegance;
Fearlessly risking a great fall.

The spruce, so mighty,
more yielding in its strength;
Dancing its wild dance, 
in rhythm with the wind.

Beautiful are the Birches
gracefully bending down,
Letting storm and gusts pass;
With ease rising up again.

Sacred are they all
in their acceptance and grace;
I see them as part of us
and we of them.

Opening our minds and hearts
we give the trees;
Recognition of their own selves,
their sacredness and dignity.

As they give the same to us.

© miriam ivarson

100_0141