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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Light through Prisms

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LIGHT THROUGH PRISMS

Knowledge is great, we hunger to learn,
yet science cannot alone explain
the wonder we feel at nature’s play;

The beauty of light broken through prisms.

The light through fine raindrops high above
creating a rainbow at which we swoon and dream,
to which even songs are composed.
To the multitude of colours within,

Through bubbles, angles and light.

The glassblower’s art, so fascinating,
almost mystic as we watch.
I love observing, almost tear eyed;
Always walk out with one piece in my hand.

I have seen this wonder in snow crystals too
and yes, in a drinking glass.
In reverence we watch these bubbles in the sky,
in a studio, in a droplet on a grass;

Don’t let us forget bubbles of light 
rising from our hearts.

© 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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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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HOLD THE HELM

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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 

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WHERE IS IT NOW

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I wrote the poem / lyric below a couple
of weeks ago and smiled at its seeming 
childishness. Snippets of strong memories
we all have but what is this. A song? A poem?

Listening to people in America talk with such
glow about Thanksgiving and family togetherness
I revisited this poem and realised.
It is just that, praise and gratitude to a home 
and people who made it so warm and safe.

So, with this I wish you across the Atlantic a
Happy Thanksgiving and all of us gratitude to 
love given in any form.

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WHERE IS IT NOW

I once had a dream
such a beautiful dream,
But the dream flew elsewhere;

I now wonder, where is it now,
is the ether keeping it away?

I once had a doll from Aberdeen,
I loved her so dearly
She even could say ‘mama’,

I often wonder, where is she now,
did the loft fairy take her away?

I once had Red skiing boots,
they were so very new,
Smelled sweet and shone,

I wonder, where are they now,
are they still skiing, all red?

I once had a hut high among the rocks,
we built it ourselves,
It was a most wonderful place.

I just wonder, is it still there,
home for other young to dream?

All the treasures I once had
that gave me so much joy,
they still make me warm;

I only wonder, as they live in my heart
are they happy,
Knowing they are loved?

© miriam ivarson

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I RAN

 

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I  RAN

Fit as an athlete of body and mind,
I ran,
faster and harder every day.
To reach and achieve, what? I ask today;

Stopping for quick breaks to see and breathe,
heather, the Sea, meadows and snow,
Only to return to the run.

It was fun at times but what about the soul,
no time for it to fully live, to sing;
No time for the body to know the breeze.

I knew but pressed the knowledge down,
Thought I had to run.
Until one day a shot hit my neck;
in and instant I crumpled to the ground.

the structure crashed down,
Now, the ambulance ran.

Against all odds I survived,
It took time, I learned new truths,
or were they the old?
finally getting space and time,

As I no longer ran.

A picnic by the shore, sensuous and slow,
I saw, really saw,
the sky, the sea and shifting sands;
The colour displays took my breath away.
Time didn’t have a meaning, just Now was life.

Walking instead of running, seeing wonder in all,
Like a newborn child,
I promised never to lose that again
even if I learnt to run.

I lost a lot that day but now wonder,
Did I not gain even more?
The time to write a poem in the morn;
Or listen to a frightened man,

To feel the blessing and joy of giving comfort,
of connecting with those needing support;
To find the positives born from pain.

© miriam ivarson

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D A N C E

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DANCE

Dance as if freedom is yours, your right,
sing as if all are free, like heaven above,
smile the guileless smile of a child;

Dance to the song of life,

history will tell me I am wrong
so will the news,
that evil is inherent in man;
That my dreams are naive,

maybe so, my friends, yet
you might also find,
your beauty, your song.
Hidden under historical wrongs;

Let us choose the light
and not imitate the throng,
nor applaud just because …
Without thought, without reflection.

Believe in you, in us, in freedom
Dance in the sun with a guileless smile.

© miriam ivarson

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