Author: alisha
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Somewhere Deep Among the Forest
Somewheredeep among the forest, the bush and the birchwood, buried below boulders,you can smell Yahwehand you can hear her humming the wind, dancing the stillnessbreathing out life through her endless foliage. Beneath this bark, in her boundless galaxyis life, death and her invitation to eternity. Here in the decay of leaves, limbs and dirtis the…
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The Cycle of Change
Withered, worn out and weatheredI wonder whether I can continue to stand on this dirt that feels more like sand.The fruit of abundancethat took months of patience and pruningnow lays decayingbeside the branches that have broken off from every deep frostor thrustof wind Will I ever win? Or is life less of a game and…
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Emerge
All will emerge they say… Who are they anyway?Those mystics, philosophers, musicians and artistswho wonder and dream and sit still on grass planes… All will emerge If I just sit as stilland watch the world flutter by If onlyIsathere. All will emerge If I let myself join in this fluttering symphonyand remain free within meLike…
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To Believe
You see this landthis place with weeds and dandelions, of earthworms, of beetles, of stones, moss and seeds?This is what we are meant to believe. Not something with our minds to grasp, to calculate in maths, or with moppy music to memorizebut something with our musclesthe memory of movements etched into our membranesour fingers and…
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Presence in Pain
Holy motherThe one who nurtures us in her wombBirther of the rocks, the pebbles, the pedals and all the people placed and knitted into this world. This world. A world full of complexities, of creatures and creativity. There is so much to live for in the beauty of these crevices. We can feel it in…
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Forget
We forget Too often how beloved we are. Like a mother chid connection. Like the womb we are born from. We are knit seamlessly by beloved energy, eroding our hatred, our fear and our dualities of destructive ideas of difference. Don’t forget The yarn, the needle, the wrinkly delicate hands born from another woman’s bosom…
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Lions, Sparrows, Doves
Lions, Sparrows, DovesThey know. Do you?The truth, tucked deep, down inside?That running towards the headlines, text books, bachelor degrees, that Masters, those PhDs, the sophisticated language that trips up those lesser than me, has become our idol. Reliant on knowledge and in fear of vulnerable Wisdom.For Wisdom, she knows what is true, the body, the…
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Monday morning and dead poets.
Arriving. Coming to consciousness in the crisp, new airthat isMonday. No one seems to care or wants to wake up to the conscious absurdity of six o’clock mornings and business-like conformity. Is this the sum total of our lives? Or can we step outside the rat race before our soul dies? Or do we become…
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What if?
So many wasted years, learning to use, control the brain, mold it, bend it, brainwash, praise and strain it. To work and work it, hit it against the wall until the obstacle breaks, Brute strength. The coldness of its cement, ‘crisp and clear’ they say,but it led my spirit into fear. Fear of my heart…
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You are raindrop
You are breath. Breathing the landscape, the city scrapers and the office papers. You are breath. Breathing out the energy, the wonder that makes the inhale even possible. You are not one speck of sand amongst the endless piles, you are the raindrop that falls amongst the whole of the ocean breathing in and breathing…
by Rev Alisha 