Face in the Mountain stream

Mother Earth's Temple

Home

Summer’s end is fast approaching.

My wander lust has taken its grip.

I want to go to the mountains.

I want to hug a forest.

I want to sip

Of that sweet,  sweet honey

the forest has to offer just now.

I want to scream, laugh, cry, 

shout and dance about.

Lay down among the pines,

the spruces,

the oak

in the peaceful  silence; 

no doubt.

I want to lay in the coolness of the mosses.

I want to disappear into the trees.

I want to wander there forever.

I want to only return on the breeze.

I want to run away forever.

I want to claim the cloud as my friend.

I have  had  all I can take of the waiting….

Now that I know of your love.

I want to bask in the laughter and music

That bring me close to my Home up above.

I  want to be out in the forest.

I want to be hunkered down  by the brook.

I want to sit and talk with the fairies.

I want to share a craggy old nook.

I want to surrender to and within nature.

I want to be free and to cook

A meal on one more campfire.

I want to swim and fish and to dream.

I want to take this broken old body

Allow it  to play out its desires.

I want to put my face in the stream.

I want to be one with the Mountain of God.

Only then will I be ready for winter.

Only then will I be truly serene.

I want to lie with a rock as my pillow.

I want to gaze and play with the stars

I want to skip past Venus and Mars.

I want to hear the celestial music

I want the Light and Sound

to be tangible and ringing again within.

I want to start back in the forest.

It is the only place

I can remember….

Who I am as Soul

Why I am here

Where I have been.

I want to climb out on the limb

of  the tallest tree.

I want to look across the river of Life

I want to just let it Be.

I want to lay in the coolness of the mosses.

I want to disappear into the trees.

I want to wander there forever.

I want to only return on the breeze.

The movies

In the past fifteen years I have seen three movies:

Titanic, Horton hears a Who and Benjamin Button.

So I am at a loss to express my deep gratitude

 and spiritual awakening

After the viewing of Benjamin Button.

For me, it was excellantly crafted, cut from the cloth of the robe of God.

It moved me.

It shook me.

It helped me heal.

I faced my grief, my anger and my joy

to only have it cascading in on me,

as profound sadness and elation again in the next scene.

(I was to be a ballerina this lifetime….fate had other plans.

By the time I was 8 years old I weighed eighty pounds

and looked like a full back on the men’s football team.)

So a movie about the dance and the dance of life

Will challenge me to ever

 take its memory from me as

the best movie of my life.

I saw Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid thirteen times.

I only want a percentage of the royalties

I will generate by enrolling

all my friends into the viewing

and partaking of this moveable visual feast.

Oh my goodness, I feel drained and inspired all in one breathe.

The “emotional roll in the hay of my life experiences” expressed in this movie

Has left me quite for a loss of expression, except perhaps:

For me, it was excellantly crafted, cut from the cloth of the robe of God.

My Ticket Home

When faced with an illness

An accident

A fall

I rejoice

Asking

“Is this my ticket home?

Am I about to answer the call?”

The wise one who teaches me

Answers with a kind laugh in his voice…

“You are already Home.”

Acceptance dances as one with  Soul.

I delight in this moment.

I know I am Home.

I truly rejoice.

I am whole.

The Joy of the Morning

Oh the Joy of the Mornings

As our Son danced with me.

He moved always like a feather.

He spoke of the Creator.

He loved the dance

the music of my country.

He pleased his father,

my husband.

I could not please him.

I only blushed.

So I danced with our son.

Until I could dance no more.

When I was young,

I danced.

I had long giggling curls

that danced out of my babushka

as I danced.

Oh how I danced.

I danced to at first to please my feet

Then to please my Papa.

I was Anastasia then.

Then I danced with others.

The Father’s came to watch us dance.

They congratulated themselves

on their choice of daughters.

One who danced with his eyes

Asked for my hand.

He took me.

From my music,

my dancing

my country.

He called me “Ann”

“Ann, get the cart.

Ann, hold the ox,

Ann, hold the light.

Ann, good night.”

He only worked.

Never once did he think of the music.

Never once did he thing  of the dance.

Oh the Joy of the morning as I danced

With our son…

He moved always like a feather.

-except from “Baba” a play by mhf