I talked to my heart this morning
in the quiet of the dawn;
It was restive and had lost its rhythm,
I felt it had been asked too much
carrying burdens and worries each day.
I put my hand above this faithful heart
that kept working day and night,
In spite of work, worry, sorrow and strain
at around 100,000 beats a day.
Now it was confused and had lost its way,
the rhythm was fractured and danced;
Seemingly any which way.
So I whispered, I love you dear heart,
I will help, together we will find peace again.
I asked forgiveness for thoughtlessness.
Sweetly I talked also to the brain, we agreed,
stress and hurry should be banned,
A new regime was to begin
one of trust and calm.
So with this in mind, I started with calmer steps,
lit some candles for breakfast and watched,
just observed, buds on bushes and trees;
Rain watering them all and sun soon to warm.
I wanted to restart in harmony with them;
Allowing healing powers to flow.
© miriam ivarson
Mr Owl above, wisely tells me that we teach best what we need to learn.
An old adage I tell him but admit I don’t always listen. Hmm …
The first and most spontaneous gift at birth is the breath.
Yet, we often manage to mess even this up. Makes me both laugh and cry,
are we both too clever and too ignorant?
Either way, this little poem presented itself and perhaps I am not the only one
to recognise this phenomenon of breathing.
to the rhythm of the waves,
To the sounds of strong winds
through the forests and glades;
The sighing of reeds by the lake.
Letting breath flow deeply and easily
in harmony with them,
Replenishing body and mind.
Our lives begin on Earth with the first breath,
it ends with the last;
Thus follows that we should nourish and fill
this precious vessel, this gift,
With oxygen freely supplied from each tree,
from all living nature.
So walk straight, fill the lungs
make every cell sing,
with the fervour of a little bird;
At night let easy cadency sustain.
Our heartbeats will slow, to the pulse
of a two stroke diesel;
As it propels the skiff at sea.
All it takes is to be,
in tune with the Whole.
c/ miriam ivarson
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