FLY PAST

Fly past of peace

Mankind is fighting itself
trying to find balance and peace.
Yet, in the fighting more extinction occurs.

How can killing and destruction ever lead
to peace, to harmony and growth.
It never did and never will.

Yet most of us wish to live in unity,
To sing, work and play
To see our children grow, surrounded,
yes, I say the word. Surrounded by love. 

We are all citizens of this World. 

c/ 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

A Life Force

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A Life Force

I love his voice caressing my ears
Like chocolate slowly melting in the mouth,
I love his steady gaze as I laugh and dance;
Like sun on the skin a summer’s day.

I love the Blackbird having his morning bath
with splash and preening, making feathers shine,
I love his morning song so full of light
praising the dawn, praising life.

I love my best friend in every way,
her bright blue eyes, her shining hair;
I love the care that shines as we meet,
the laughter we share and at times grief.

I trust her without hesitation,
she holds my hand and I hold hers;
We shelter each other and we fly free.

Could that be what I am trying to say,
Love is a life force
Whatever the situation, love enhances,
Expands our life, expands all creation.

© miriam ivarson

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H O P E

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H O P E

Hope sustains me
hope is life enhancing
hope is positive

It has carried mankind
through pain untold.

Giving us strength to see,
there must be good beyond.
Beyond cruelty, hate, sickness
both of body and mind.

Love, its natural partner
This life giving force,
Sure to be stronger than hate.
Love is Life itself.

Without, all will wither an die;
Like plants in a rainless land.

Lifting my face to the sun
I feel tears in my Heart,
tears of grief for pain untold,
Tears of joy of hope for a world at peace.

You are a dreamer I am often told.
Maybe that is true,
If so, I hope for many dreamers
among you, you and you …

© miriam ivarson

 

 

Hi to Fears

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Hi to Fear

Fear is dark, fear diminishes
Our minds and souls entrapped.
Caught in the net of imagined disaster
We become disabled and stunned.

A confinement we don’t desire.

Say hi to your fears, acknowledge them,
Don’t let them kill who you are.
A child of universe, a star, creativity.
You are that and more.

Let us ask, what do we plant and create
on this Earth of blessings and strife?
May it be beauty, wisdom, love.

Let us make the gift of life count
not drown in non living – alive.

© miriam ivarson

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Objects de’Art

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Object D’Art

Together they mingle in harmony
the arts, bursting from souls
no longer suppressed or withheld.

Paintings of peace in flowing hues,
some in colours of grief.

Same with legends from Wordsmiths,
at times withheld too long;
Now telling their drams and truths.

The sculptor who this moment created a vase
so smooth, glazed in natures hues.

To tell about the many creative forms
would keep us here too long,

First, lest we forget. Always listen,
Listen to your heart.
Without love and passion

all art is just delightful objects d’art.

© miriam ivarson

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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Never forget Love

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Never forget Love

Watching a craftsman one day
I was taken with his calm and skill,
how every sanding, sawing and nail
just seemed to flow from his hands;

Making me wonder about intelligence.

Often those with high degrees and titles
are set above the artisans and their crafts;
Above the unity of heart and action
whilst humming a tune

or working in silence, serene.

Intelligence comes in many forms
But Love only in one,
without which, all created becomes dust;
Knowledge without real life.

Passion and harmony give life to all you do,
to the surgeon’s knife, to the baker’s hands,
To the painter’s brush, to the welder’s torch;
Never forget Love. 

Healing where intellect still debates,
Creating whilst scholars frown.

At best, live in harmony with both.

© miriam ivarson

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