Time

 Find time

Time goes, time

Time to find time

Go by, go by

Stop and listen and cry

Yet, why this yearning

In discomfort, welling up

this tears, my fears, 

longing, remembering, 

accepting, going forward,

being content, the art of living

with a turmoil of emotion, yet,

keeping calm, cool and collected.

Time to gather, reflect, stop, eject,

Feel, the surge and let out, release

Release, the grief, let out, to relief.

Time will help heal

The healing will not be forgetting

But recognizing and living

Time goes forward, carries on

Carries time within, all that has been and is now

Time is now and how to be with it all and move on.

The Enchantress

 

The Enchantress

Inner to outer

The Enchantress shouts louder

I hear the voice of my grandmother

calling me

Listen, listen, I listen

Slow douwn, ground

yourself, feel,

feeling my, my, 

myself

Listen to my needs

Bewise, be wise,

wiser, rise later;

for now, just be,

rest, for now.

I am enough

I've done enough

I had enough

So, now, let it be,

let it be, let it be...

Let it out, let it out,

shout, and then shed,

shed, shed, and be

still.

M - E - N - O - P - A - U - S - E

 Meno-pause

M - Menopause

Meh!

Me?

Mmmmm...

E - eh?

N - no way!

O - Oh!

P - Peri peri , peri-menopausal

A - aaaaaaagh!

U - 'U 2?'

S - symptoms

E - ending...when?

The Work of Happiness

 THE WORK OF HAPPINESS

by May Sarton

I thought of happiness, how it is woven
Out of the silence in the empty house each day
And how it is not sudden and it is not given
But is creation itself like the growth of a tree.
No one has seen it happen, but inside the bark
Another circle is growing in the expanding ring.
No one has heard the root go deeper in the dark,
But the tree is lifted by this inward work
And its plumes shine, and its leaves are glittering.

So happiness is woven out of the peace of hours
And strikes its roots deep in the house alone:
The old chest in the corner, cool waxed floors,
White curtains softly and continually blown
As the free air moves quietly about the room;
A shelf of books, a table, and the white-washed wall —
These are the dear familiar gods of home,
And here the work of faith can best be done,
The growing tree is green and musical.

For what is happiness but growth in peace,
The timeless sense of time when furniture
Has stood a life’s span in a single place,
And as the air moves, so the old dreams stir
The shining leaves of present happiness?
No one has heard thought or listened to a mind,
But where people have lived in inwardness
The air is charged with blessing and does bless;
      Windows look out on mountains and the walls are kind.