Seeking Yourself

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Seeking  Yourself

Hurled into the universe
helpless, small,
How do we know where to go
Is it coincidence or design?

I believe that the little spirit is drawn
to love in abundance, to care beyond call.
A seed inherent that grows, that blooms
as the helpless newborn says hello.

Yet, why did I choose an island in the North
or you a town in the South
and why these particular parents we love?

Do we have a purpose to fulfill, a gift to explore?
do you believe it is a random act.
Is the seeming randomness just fear,
fear of seeking, of fulfilling our destinies?

Like heat seeking missives we were hurled
to the parents perfect for us;
Are they kindred spirits we sought
or a cradle to further our growth?

I know this seems cruel to those who struggle,
yet history shows;
Strength and love,
Leadership and wisdom from many once deprived.

© miriam ivarson

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BELONGING

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BELONGING

Where do we belong, each and every one?
What makes our soul sing and our work dance,
what do we seek, in stillness,
alone?

So many questions and no answers,
a teacher I am not.

I love the ocean, both when it rages and smiles,
also I love the forests, meadows and rocks.
They all have their voice, clear and sincere.
As they roar and whisper their eternal truths.

Not a false note nor a lie to be heard,
no lures and baits, just joy and veracity.
The rocks join in with healing vibes.

Among these I belong, feel peace and calm,
where also birds and butterflies live.

Many cities are so beautiful, I grant you that;
In awe I visited many times.
Admired the artistry of buildings famed
of skill and design, of achievements seeming greater than man.

I love visiting these but find the noise and rush,
the tensions and fumes of the streets too much.
Although exciting pulse will attract.

All these thoughts matter, have validity,
but don’t we really belong
with those we love unconditionally
as they do us.

Know us and love us, 
Just for what we are, simply you or I.

© miriam ivarson

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DOUBTING


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DOUBTING

Are we ever good enough to create,
be it in writing or paint?
Doubts that seems like a plague
or might it just make us strive?

Strive to create our utmost, our best.

Does a seed ever doubt itself
as it falls to the ground?
Does it feel small and inferior?
I believe it just does sow.

Follow its purpose and beauty on Earth.

Yet mankind seems doomed to hesitate,
to doubt, belittle and judge;
In lieu of fulfilling gifts we have.
Even the masters suffered this scourge.

Yet their creations lifted others high
Often after they left this Earth,
still doubting themselves.
That is sad.

We might be amateurs or maybe great,
Few will know …
Until after they are dead.

I do hope we all then can smile
wherever we are
and be content with our work,
The light it could spread.

C/ miriam ivarson 

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HERE AND BEYOND

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HERE  AND  BEYOND

There is something beyond the mountains
Beyond the sun, beyond the stars,
beyond my burning, longing heart;

A yearning for Cosmos to fill the soul
with its song so pure and serene.

Sounds from oceans, lakes and forests
fill us with joy and peace,
how can there be more beyond?
I just know there is.

Looking at the complexity, the beauty of a rose
residing on the table as I write,
Does it also long for more or does it know;
The wonder of the Whole.

May I never be blind to the universe
held in a flower, a tree 
nor to the glory of a human heart.

I feel the greatness of the Whole 
is beyond the understanding of our minds.
Still, it is there, giving its gifts each day.

© miriam ivarson

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TEMPEST

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TEMPEST

Wild and relentless the storm roared,
its might irresistible;
Fearsome force
snapping and erasing so much in its way.

Trees that looked so mighty yesterday
are now mere cricket bats and sticks,
as the winds, play and snap and throw them
Here and there.

The taller the trees, the easier they fall
and yet they looked so gigantic the day before,
when I walked and looked in awe.
Short trees and bushes fare well,

as they spin and bend with the wind.

Poor Daffodils didn’t stand a chance,
Their long slender stems easily snapped.

Garden furniture on the deck were but toys,
easily re-arranged. They slid,
they spun and were placed
Here and there.

Tempest was playing garden design.

As to the fences, the Storm didn’t much care,
gaps appeared easily, at random it seemed,
creating new views and a haven for dogs.
who before only had one garden but now were free.

Me? I had plans for today. Makes me laugh,
how little we know about our days.
As we write our lists, our ambitious agendas.

This is how come I trouble you this morning,
having thrown my list to the wind.

© miriam ivarson

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Borrow my place

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Borrow my place

I watch them pass, children and adults
Humans of all ages, walking to school.
Skipping, hopping, running,
strolling, marching,
some slowly proceeding.

Just like the tempo of nature itself
we vary our strides, as time goes by.
Girls and boys from four to eleven;
Parents, grandparents, all ages.

All manner of mastering the hill
looking happy this sunny morn.

What delights me most are the bonds I see,
a mother and daughter giggling together,
a father running with his child on the shoulders,
a grandmother with and adoring girl by the hand.

Laughing together.
As do many children whilst skipping ahead.

That is when I feel reporters should borrow my place
by the sunny window, facing the road.
What pictures and stories on the first page,
replacing the grim and the dark.

Fill the papers with vignettes of our daily lives,
There is so much beauty in a smile,
contentment in a bakery or a store.
People sharing lives and caring for one another.

Creating, writing, painting,
planting gardens.
Making homes a place of fun,
of comfort and love.

A sanctuary
A place to just be.

© miriam ivarson

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Today I walked …

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Today I walked … 
I walked along the strand
Yes,
I walked along the Sea today,
it felt like home, I belonged.

Shingles and sand felt easy underfoot
the air a healing balm,
I felt tingling, alive and strong.

Came evening the moon cast
a street of silver on the sea,
Inviting to a dreamy walk;
Bedazzled I wanted to try.

Next morning the sun painted
an avenue of colours on the sea,
as not to be outdone;
Joyful I wanted to dance.

We love them both, the Moon and the Sun,
Moon with her mysterious faces and charms
enthralls us, draws us in.
The Sun switches on his light and heat;
Bestows life giving warmth.

Yet, without the Sea they would lose,
lose the power to provide life or to enthrall.

So I will stay by the Sea,
breathe its invigorating air;
Walk along the shores and often stop;
To admire the grandiose displays.

Feel the enigma of all three.

Hear music as the hymns from Cosmos
meets the songs from the oceans vast.

© miriam ivarson

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FORGIVE – FORGET

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FORGIVE – FORGET

Can we forgive ourselves
wrong choices and mistakes,
smile at decisions that shone?
Both part of learning and growth.

Part of the fabric of life.

Can we forgive others for pain they caused,
foul actions and words?
Not brood or let them darken our days?
Can we hurl burdens overboard.

How easy the ship would sail, unladed.

I believe we can forgive,
I wonder, what about forget?
How would it feel to toss all darkness to the winds.

Would the sun shine brighter
would we skip with joy?

Our brain holds memories,
can there still be acceptance and peace?
I believe so,
we can put the millstones down
one by one.

Don’t be slaves, carrying weights long gone;
Let them be absorbed by Cosmos so vast,
where neither time nor thought exist.

Imagine to feel free,
feel the joy of dance
see the sunset, really behold.

Forgive yourself and others
walk with knowledge and no rancour,
smile at passers by.

In sunshine or soft rain.

© miriam ivarson

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SNOW DROP

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SNOW DROP

What a joy looking through the window,
this morning was special;
Frost had given way to gentle sun.

Above all, a whole hamlet of Snowdrops sang,
I promise you, they really did.
Dressed in shining white against darker hues,
they called us to celebrate too.

To celebrate the return of life,
from hidden slumber in the ground.

I looked up at the Lilac tree above
and smiled,
It wouldn’t be outdone, their buds were swollen
also singing of spring.

Blackbirds and Robins were feeding on the lawn,
My special Robin came to the windowsill.
We twittered together of many things
and he taught me to sing.

I opened the window and fed him sunflower seeds,
He twittered happily so I think he was pleased.

Now, I am twittering to you,
glad of the lesson I learnt;
There is always beauty in each day.

I better go, my coffee is getting cold.

© miriam ivarson

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Blessings

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Blessings

Woke to a soft morning, felt whole,
warm under duvet, hands hugging my shoulders,
I smiled at the sleepy hug;
Stretched, felt every limb start to sing
as I allowed time to just be – before day begun.

Opened the curtains and saw the sun
hugging my garden, the trees, the sky;
All seemed pure and renewed,
only distant rumbles from planes high above,
Bringing people here and there.

Content with my place just now
until fate decides otherwise as mystery unfolds.
Arrived from one haven and landed in another;

I realise I am blessed.

© miriam ivarson