POEMS OF THE WEEK: A Prayer for Peace from South Africa

Sherry: We have a very special feature for you this week, my friends. This very beautiful prayer for peace in the world is sung by the Ladysmith High School choir of South Africa. They were performing at the 2017 Eisteddford competition, which they won. Our friend Kerry O'Connor teaches at this high school, and encourages a love of poetry in her students.

The song in the above video is a Zulu prayer for Peace in the World (Click HERE for a translation). The choirmaster is Kerry's colleague, L. de Lange.

Kerry: I have been an English teacher in a South African high school for three decades. Increasingly in the last 5 years, I felt the pressure mounting as my classes got bigger and the rigours of completing a weighty syllabus within a limited timeframe began to take its toll. I had no ‘space’ for creative exercise and I could see that without the stimulus and outlet for writing, my students were battling to express themselves meaningfully.

This was when I decided to make poetry writing ‘a thing’ in my classroom. Using NaPoWriMo as a springboard, I challenged my students to write a poem a day. At first many were opposed to the idea, if it did not come with an assessment attached which would be added to their academic mark, but I explained that the only reward would be the poems they wrote, and encouraged them to take pride in the value of intellectual property.

My purpose was never to get mass participation, but to win young writers over to poetry one at a time, if that is what it took. I believe that I have achieved some level of success over the years. Certainly, I have seen a renewed love of the notebook and pen – no small victory in the age of electronic devices. 

Every time a student shares his or her work with me, I receive it as a gift, in the belief that every poem is a small work of art.

Sherry: I so admire that you have created a space for self-expression aside from the demanding curriculum. Appreciation of poetry is a gift that your students will carry with them for the rest of their lives.

Two of Kerry's students agreed to share poems with us, from their writings during NaPoWriMo. Uwais Coetzee wrote a poem a day during April, and allowed me to choose two that I thought would fit with the message in the above video, as young people look at this bewildering world, and strive to be the best they can be.

Uwais Coetzee

If Only

He closed his eyes and wondered:
Would the world still be fine?
If the things that made history
Had changed along the line.
If black was just a colour
And the plague was just a flu
And the ark wasn’t buoyant
And there was always me and you.
If spiders couldn’t kill you
And Hitler hadn’t felt that way
And Da Vinci couldn’t paint,
Would we have met that day?
If tigers had spots,
If Malcom didn’t care
And King hadn’t marched,
Could I still stroke your hair?
If the sea weren’t salty
And the sky weren’t blue
And love was just a feeling,
Would I have you?

Nobody is You

Sometimes we feel
that we aren’t good enough
that were always at the bottom
and that we aren’t good at stuff.
But I’m here to say
that you’re perfectly you
and I’m proud that you’ve reached this point
and I’m proud that you grew.
Nobody knows your life,
Your struggles, your kin,
Nobody knows your pain,
No one’s been in your skin.
No one knows what you go through
Every single day.
No one stops to sincerely
Ask if you’re okay.
But you’ve gone through life
No matter how hard.
And you’ll be there till the end.
And you were there from the start.
And you’ll go through every trial
And come out the stronger man
And you rose from every obstacle
Screaming ‘Yes, I can’
And you’ll be there till the end
And you were there from the start.
And nobody can ever be you
And that is  your art.

©  Uwais Coetzee

***

Kerry: Uwais Coetzee is a grade 12 student of Ladysmith High School in KwaZulu-Natal. He is the Deputy Head Boy and in 1st XV Rugby and 1st Cricket teams. As well as being a top athlete, he is also a member of the school choir, participates in Speech and Drama Eisteddfods and school plays.

When asked how he came to write poetry, Uwais replied, "I started writing poetry for NaPoWriMo in 2014, when the challenge was made by my English teacher, Mrs Clark. Since my first attempt, I have completed 30 poems in 30 days for two consecutive years (2017, 2018). Most of my inspiration comes from spur of the moment feelings and experiences put into poetry form. I'd encourage people to write poetry as a means of self-expression to help one cope with issues and as a method of putting thoughts into the written word."

Sherry: Thank you so much, Kerry and Uwais, for taking time during your busy exam schedule, to participate in this feature. We so appreciate it. Uwais, I so admire the honest emotion in your poems. I especially love the "Yes, I can", and "Nobody can be you, and that is your art." Indeed, it is.

Kerry: The other poems were chosen by the poet. While the first is not quite on the theme of peace, it may provide the balance in showing the origins of violence.

Ntando Mazibuko

Animosity

These streets that we roam

Are the wilderness we call home

I’ve got blood on my shirt

But this blood ain’t mine

I thank God

I guess it wasn’t my time

I’ve got four mouths to feed

Fuelled and driven by need

Poverty is the chain from which we can never be freed

So I stay locked and loaded with a weapon better known as greed

And I’m blessed to find out that I can still breathe

Because…

I’ve got blood on my shirt

But this blood ain’t mine

The animosity clock is ticking

And I’m running out of time.

Bang…

Bang!

The animosity of gang banging

Poverty a mother that gave birth to drug slanging

A suicidal community

Drugs are the rope that’s hanging

But for me, the last bullet in his gun

Ended my time

Now I’ve got blood on my shirt

But this time the blood is…

Mine.

-TRIBAL_AFRXCA

Ntando Mazibuko

Hands of Empowerment

There is nothing more powerful

than the tender hands of a person

A person who gives up her life

to make sure others live on.

A person who takes her time

to mould the ever so shapeless minds

into a sculpture of gold.

A person who carries the future

of many in her palms

A person who aims to enrich

instead of harm.

A person who dries the tears

of a nation’s many faces

A person who makes all of this

seem easy or so it appears.

A person who takes your hand

and says…

“I’m a teacher and I will always be here.”

-TRIBAL_AFRXCA

Ntando Mazibuko

***

Kerry: Ntandoyamangwe Mazibuko, better known as Tribal_Afrxca, is a young and talented boy who fell in love with the power of poetry from a young age. He is currently a Grade 12 student at Ladysmith High School, a Deputy Head Boy and member of the school choir. He is a member of the 1st Boys Hockey team, participates in Speech and Drama Eisteddfods and acts in dramatic productions. He also plays African drums in the choir.

Sherry: Such powerful poems. The poet fully grasps the factors that play into violence: poverty, desperation, hopelessness. In the second poem, I love Ntando's recognition of the encouraging role a good teacher plays in her students' lives. We are so fortunate your students were willing to share their work with us, Kerry. We thank them both, from the bottom of our hearts.

My friends, when Kerry posted the above video on her site, she also posted the most beautiful poem, written to her students. She has allowed me to include it here, to inspire us with the beautiful sharing going on between Kerry and her students, around the love of poetry, and so much more.

Ukuthula

By Kerry O'Connor, March 1, 2018

For my students, with thanks


People say, the trials of life will make you stronger
But I am weaker –
They say, you will get over the losses, the grief
But I am over nothing –
I carry the weight of my own suffering
And it drags me down –
Nothing means the same to me, not food, nor friends
Not even the rising sun, or bird-call, or words.

In spite of this, I must go out to the children each day
Walk with them –
Even though the earth seems hollow beneath my feet
I talk with them –
When I feel the pressure of a minute as an individual blow
Still they call for me –
Their eyes are upon me as they seek for answers I do not have
They listen to my speech as if I could tell them anything.

But I see them rise before my sight like a new day
And how they shine –
Their voices remind me to be courageous and believe
They lend me strength –
When my sense of purpose falters, when I doubt my own life
The children place theirs in my hands –
They say, take our hands, we will lead you to the door
But you must guard the way for us, and guide us through.

***



Sherry: Reading this poem is a gift, Kerry. Your students are so fortunate to have you for a teacher. Seeing those beautiful, hopeful faces, singing a song for peace, really touches my heart. We adults have to do everything we can to make this world a safer place for them in which to live.

This feature illustrates very well the power of poetry to inspire the young, and the influence of teachers in developing a love of words that will last their students all their life long.

Thank you, Kerry, Uwais and  Ntando, for the privilege of reading your words. May poetry take you as far as your brightest dream. 

And to the Ladysmith High School Choir, thank you for putting such beauty out into the world. You have touched our hearts.

Wasn't this wonderful, my friends? Such a beautiful sharing of the love of words and the longing for peace. Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!

[Sources: Kerry's blog: Skylover  https:// kerryoconnorpoems.blogspot.co.za/   

And the school blog, Somewhere I Have Never Travelled:

http://ladysmithhighpoetry.blogspot.co.za/]

POEMS OF THE WEEK BY RAJANI, MAGALY AND KERRY

We have three poems by three very fine poets for you today, my friends. Rajani, of thotpurge, Magaly, of Magaly Guerrero, and Kerry, the fabulous admin at Real Toads, who blogs at  Skywriting and Skylover, have graciously allowed me to feature their remarkable and beautiful poems. I think they will lift your hearts as much as they did mine. Let's dive in.

Two Moons

Maybe it was the night we saw two moons
in the sky. Was it the sky holding a mirror to

itself, was it the sea surging back to where it
all began, was it the distance between us that

split the horizon in two? I have sun seeds in
my pocket to grow new light, to undraw the

silhouettes on either side of the silence, to dot
infinity with golden possibilities, but tonight

there can be nothing, my hands are cold in yours,
the earth bears this paradox of churning stillness,

the wind that was to fetch the dawn lies at our feet,
what do we do love, when love is not enough?

Sherry: "What do we do, love, when love is not enough?" What a perfect reflection of the times we live in, Rajani.

Rajani: Sherry, thanks so much for picking this poem. It is wonderful to be featured alongside Kerry and Magaly. Like much of what I write, I'm not sure exactly where this poem came from, but at one level it is about unrequited love that cannot overcome the reality of time and place and circumstance, so incongruent that it seems two people look up at the sky together and see two different moons. But in a broader sense, I think it is between a person and their universe, because sometimes you can want something and do all the right things to make it happen, but there are things you cannot control and can do nothing about. Two moons, I think, is the distance between what we are and what we want to be.

Sherry: What a beautiful explanation that is. Thank you, Rajani.

Magaly recently wrote the following poem, which really speaks to our shared humanity. A timely reminder in these days of division.

How Different We Are Not

My pen won’t be sated by blood pumped by the heart of another. The best tales are filled by laughter, wails, pleasure and agonies birthed out of flesh and spirits that lived them. You can’t suffer my hurts for me, I won’t weep your tears for you. But we can carve our feels into each other’s bones, and share with the world until all see how different our hates and loves are not.

I write crimson words
full of dark moons and tamed screams,
you should write your own.
I want you to art with me…
in colors that soothe your soul.

art by Magaly

Sherry: Your words speak truth, Magaly. And your art adds beauty. I love that whole idea: how different we are not! When will humanity understand this?

Magaly: "How Different We Are Not" was inspired by my belief that art brings thinking minds closer together. And in these days of divisiveness and turmoil, we need to stay close, we need to think our fighting hearts out. With this poem, I wanted to show that although our personal interests and preoccupations might be different, at the core, the needs and wants of people who care wear the same worried (hope-filled) faces - we want to be healthy, we want to love and be loved, we want to keep the Earth Mother from dying, we want a world in which everyone feels that they are not alone in wanting to be who they are and expressing that want in their own way.

Sherry: So perfectly stated, Magaly. "Worried and hope-filled faces" is very apt. We are all worried. And we cannot relinquish hope of better days than these. Thank you for this poem of truth. 

Kerry's poem is so incredibly lovely, I caught my breath when I read it.  It offers us a very human moment, that I am sure everyone can relate to.  Let's take a peek.

Made For Silence

My tongue was not made for silence
but my words cannot reach you now.

I leave them unsaid, lying awake
through dark hours of morning

listening to the rain whisper her words
of love to the leaves and grass

knowing how this will make things
grow right, even the little birds

huddle closer together on the bough
and the stars are still there

behind the storm clouds, never too distant
for their light to be lost.

My words cannot heal you, but I am here
never further than the star, a small bird in the rain.

source

Sherry: Your closing lines leave me breathless, Kerry. I can so feel that woman, a small bird in the rain. Sigh.

Kerry:  The idea behind "Made For Silence" came to me at 4 a.m. on a rainy morning, so that part is quite literal. It is the curse of the insomniac to lie awake while most of the world sleeps, so this reinforced the theme of silence.

I am always interested in exploring the idea of communication as an aspect of the human condition, especially in close relationships, the words spoken and also what is left unsaid.

The poem acknowledges that sometimes the best one can do for another person is to be nearby without intruding. I have had to wrestle with a reluctant muse of late, and a lack of inspiration, so perhaps this could be read as a kind of internal monologue, in which I address the silent part of myself. 

Sherry: As I read, I felt the silent observer in myself, as well. Just so beautiful, Kerry. Thank you. And thank you for your enormous contribution to the poetry community, in keeping the Imaginary Garden open all these years. 

We hope these words gifted you with a few moments of peace, comfort and beauty in your busy day, my friends. Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!

Poems of the Week ~ by Mary, Kerry and Myrna

This week, my friends, we are featuring three lovely poems by Mary, of In the Corner of My Eye, Kerry, of  Skylover: Collected Works, and Myrna, of   Daily Spirit . Each poem is a statement of simple values, resonating with the comfort of those small joys that make up our lives. With the external news so consistently bad, I hope you enjoy these moments of profound simplicity and peace, that recharge our batteries and remind us of all that is good, and immediate, and ours.

GRASS STILL GROWS

The grass still grows

 trees take root

birds warble

and dreams take hold

The wind still whistles

butterflies dance

coyotes howl

and spirits soar

The waterfall still tumbles

penguins dive

monkeys climb

and hearts sing

And life still continues

overcomes disregard

nature perseveres

despite human misdeed

Sherry: I love the reassurance in these lines, Mary, that somehow, no matter what is going on, nature and her cycles continue on, in spite of us.

Mary: I wrote this poem when I was in search of hope, which seems in short supply right now. In order to find hope, I decided the best thing is to contemplate beauty in the sights and sounds of nature and to realize that, despite human failings and foibles, nature will persevere.  And, even in the worst of times, if we look around us we will see that ‘grass still grows.'

Sherry: You succeeded very well, Mary. In much the same vein, Kerry recently wrote a beautiful poem about small daily joys. Let's take a look.

SIMPLICITY

Some days, the best I can hope for is a simple brew

sipped from a rose-patterned cup

in a sunny kitchen

with a dog panting nearby

fresh from rolling on the grass

dusty but sweet-smelling

and the flash of a kingfisher through the window

one that perched long enough for me to tell him,

“Oh, you beauty” before he flew away.

Sherry: Sigh. These are the very best moments of all. 

Kerry: Thanks, Sherry. It is such a little poem, written on the fly, so to speak. I really don't have much to say about the process, except that was pretty much my morning.

Sherry: And a beautiful, peaceful morning it was. It is a joy to read. Thank you for this note of brightness and beauty, my friend.

We have another morning moment from our friend, Myrna, another poet who reminds us often to be grateful for all that is good in our lives, in the middle of so much that is distressing in the larger world.

MORNING MEMORY

The orange moon at dawn

Was like dripping ripe fruit

Which I visually tasted

As I watched it sink 

Into someone else's night

Winking at morning's sun

Becoming bright

Like a salute or a blessing

An intimate au revoir 

Between light and light

How privileged I was

To witness this exchange

A present from the gods of love

Showing me affection

In that tiny drop of eternity

Into which I can still dive

Backstroke swimming through time

In my mind

Sherry: I am so grateful that those gods of love continue giving us such gifts of beauty and wonder, no matter what. There is so much breathtaking beauty, everywhere! Myrna, this is so lovely. 

Myrna: Usually dawn awakens me and I immediately go to the front of the house to watch as the sun brightens my mountains.   But this day I couldn't sleep and I got up earlier.  I went instead to my back yard in time to see sky's beautiful spectacle.  The moon was descending over the valley as the blue of the sky became lighter.  The moon's color was unusually orange.  I was mesmerized.  I didn't even try to photograph the scene, which was as much a vision as it was an almost ecstatic experience.  There I stood, paralyzed, engraving the morning to my memory.  Mother Nature was showing off the power of her beauty.  It was one of those moments one can't fully explain.  I was so totally present.

I tried to paint the scene, but my amateur skills didn't come close to depicting what I saw.  Then I wrote this poem.  My words are insufficient, but I did my best to describe that unforgettable morning treat.

Sherry: You described it so well, we see the scene ourselves as we read. This is just gorgeous, Myrna. I like that you engraved it on your memory rather than trying for a photo. Photos don't always capture the totality of what we are seeing. Thank you so much for this poem.

Our thanks and appreciation to these three fine poets, for lifting our hearts, and for showing us there is still so much beauty, so much to be grateful for, in our lives and in the world.

Do come back, my friends, to see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!

POEMS OF THE WEEK ~ KERRY, JAE ROSE AND TRUEDESSA

This week, my friends, we have poems from three brilliant poets to share with you. I asked Kerry O'Connor of Skylover and Skywriting, Jae Rose of  her blog of the same name,  and Truedessa, of True Wanderings, if they would share the following poems with us, and they graciously agreed.  I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.

Our first selection is Kerry's beautiful poem, part of a series she embarked on recently that is resulting in some wonderful work.

THREE LITTLE BIRDS ALL IN A ROW

Three little birds in a row 
Sat musing. 
The Black Riders and Other Lines ~ Stephen Crane

I

Yes, some days, the sky is bleak
with wind grinding the clouds
and birds stolen on the wing –
and on those days, your heart
feels full of pebbles
slowly grinding your blood to dust.


II

A man came to me once, in a lonely place,
and offered to show me
the waterhole where he kept his heart.
He drew it out, and cradled it
like a pet; it clawed his hand.
I saw it had the beak of an eagle.


III

There are no answers in the firmament;
but here is my garden, waterless
and dying. Every bird comes of its own
volition, or hunger, to eat the apples
I have halved and skewered,
a purposeful dissection of my own heart.


IV

If you have a song, sing it for me now
before the drought has broken
that I may pick each note apart to wear
on a grey string around my neck.
And I will love you for life;
I will love you in the lonely place.

Kerry O'Connor, August 6, 2016

Sherry: So evocative, Kerry. I resonate with the pebbles in the heart, such a good description. I especially admire loving someone "in the lonely place." You have echoed Crane's tone admirably, yet this poem is wholly your own, and beautiful.

Kerry: This poem is, in fact, a continuation of one I wrote a few days earlier, entitled Aye; But Beloved, and both were inspired by my reading of Stephen Crane's The Black Riders and Other Lines which is a compilation of Crane's shorter pieces. Crane's poems seem to fall under the themes of righteous wisdom, human wisdom and love and its loss.

The latter theme is central to my poetry and these were the stanzas which inspired me the most. Crane's poems are all quite individual, however, while I have used the idea of short pieces to provide a more cohesive narrative of a single speaker. In 'Three Little Birds', I have made the connection more obvious by including the same motifs in each, namely the birds, the heart and the water (which becomes a song in the final stanza). 

I am currently working on another set of stanzas, which begins HERE. I have also recorded a reading of the entire collection thus far, under the title, Aye; But Beloved and Other Lines, which can be found on Soundcloud HERE. 

I doubt these poems would have been written if it were not for my reading of Crane, and I have acknowledged this in my choice of titles, and preface quotes. At present, I do not know if the series is complete, and that is an exciting position to be in for a poet, especially when the well is so often dry.

Sherry: Yes, indeed, it is always thrilling to contemplate a series of poems! Thank you for this, Kerry. And thank you for the link to the spoken poems, always a pleasure to listen to.

Now let's take a look at a powerful piece by our friend, Jae Rose.

Prophesy

She crunches her apple 

It has been a long time 

Sometimes yesterday

Almost tomorrow

She is wishing inside

Quietly parked in my arms

Happy 

I think

Composed

She corrects

Her hair is shiny

Dress 

Clean pressed and fresh

It was good they caught you

She whispers

Holding my hand

If they hadn’t 

We wouldn’t be able to play any more

Quick sticks

No time to lose

Our sins and thrills 

Have tolled and rolled

Fallen like timber

Instilled in our soul

We have to make things right 

She trills

I am scared of falling Alice

Then don’t 

She says

All falls start with one bad step

I think of the man

Of being stuck 

In the bottle of glue

Contained

Trapped

She corrects

We watch the clouds

Dreaming past the telephone pole

In the lines are forgotten shouts

Irascible destinations

Cards laid out

Installed

Enabled

We are given to magic and stars 

Twelve small stones

Mixed in a bowl of fireflies and mint

Poesy

Prophesy

Fable

There may not be home or even a rainbow

But the end always lies in the palm of our hand.  

Jae Rose August 16, 2016

Sherry: That closing is absolutely wonderful. I love the note of strength, and, as always, Alice's clear correction to find the exactly right phrase. Your small pilgrim is a wise soul.

Jae Rose: Thank you for choosing one of my poems for your feature. It is a pleasure to stand beside two inspiring poets - thank you also to Kerry and Truedessa.

'Prophesy' was the first poem I wrote after being discharged from hospital. I had a short break from blogging - and the various things that caused me to be there in the first place.

I was feeling brighter than usual. Hence Alice was all fresh and polished. Perhaps we were both renewed and a little less tired. It felt good to be home. Like something accomplished and tidied up. 

It sprang to life from four prompts - Magical Mystical Teacher’s Sunday Scribblings 2 - ‘Compose’ - and her Sunday’s Whirligig of the same week.  The Sunday Whirl and Sanaa’s Prompt Night's - ‘Let’s take a look at the cards shall we’.

I think it was one of those poems that tumbled out without much prodding. Alice felt full of energy and young. Ready, waiting and happy to talk again.

On top of Alice’s chatter, Sanaa’s prompt brought out a little magic and playfulness. The bowl of fireflies and mint was a pleasant surprise and seemed to fit in with the stones, palmistry reference and stars.

A little internet trawling changed the title from prophecy to prophesy -

‘To prophesy is to predict something or to utter something inspired by one's god’.

The photograph posted with the poem was the fabric of my sister’s dress. She stayed with me whilst I was in hospital. I think the pattern and flowers show how it felt to be with her and to safely return home.  

Colour, love and hope which hopefully I can draw on if/when darker days return. 

Sherry: My friend, we all hope they will not return, at least not in such force. We shall help you hold them at bay.  And bless your sister for being there with and for you. She is a good sister.

That weekend was a wonderful one for poetry. That same day, in the Pantry,  I read Truedessa's wonderful 'Cupping Light', a poem which holds great impact for me and whose refrain repeats in my mind, still, as a message to me from beyond the veil. Let's take a deep draught of that light.

CUPPING LIGHT

In a sacred circle we gather
those who believe
in dreams...

We come to meditate on
life to find the answers
of our heart

Slumbering under the tree of life
I surrender myself to the beat
of twenty pounding drums...
thump
   THump
      THUMP

Dropping the cloak of insecurity
I drift away through the portal
of opportunity. My resting body
takes in spiritual nourishment

Through the darkness, I find my
way, following the signs that
lead me closer to my destination
twisted trees, screeching owl

I hear nocturnal life breathing
around me, feel the eyes peering
through hidden places.
crisp
  crackling
    twigs break with each step
      deer brush against the canvas
        of darkness...

Shadow people watch from the hollows
of giant oaks , maples and evergreens
fresh scent of pine circles me like a wreath
of pleasure...

Walking in two worlds, to find my true
potential in a landscape of changing
views, the river sings a reflective song

My heart races, beating to ancient calls
I hear you, the wolf howls from the cliff
of awareness, offering his guidance
  owoooooooooooo
     OW00000000000000
         OW000000000000000000

Darkness tightens its noose around the
hanging trees, fear of the unknown
grips me in a changing world

Apparitions dart between the
huge trunks, chanting a song
breathe, inhale/exhale

I love you
  I forgive you
    I thank you

Ahead the golden crescent moon
shines high above the treetops
shadowy figure steps out of night
approaching me, a wolf follows
in his steps...

I feel suddenly very small in this large
place of wonder. Fear of darkness in
the other world worries me, I want
to run, but can't move...adrenaline
flows through my veins....

I step forward to full-fill the dream
quest. The stars become very bright
illuminating the heavens and my path

In silence I stand before an ancient
dweller. His hair long, thick & black
with solemn eyes that reach for me
I can see the scars from the battles
of past lives.

The trees burst into a thousand lights
and my heart sings a song of new life
he offers me a firefly, places it in
my open palm. I cup it to my heart...

The offering of light is mine to carry into
my waking life.

 I love you
     I forgive you
        I thank you

echoes, as I am called back into the sacred circle
bringing with me the gift of light...

author's note: This is a vision that came to me
through meditation, it is what it is, a gift. May
you all carry a piece of light with you in your
journey.

Truedessa, August 7, 2016

Sherry: This poem is so powerful, and affects me in a very deep way. As I  mentioned, I often repeat to myself the lines "I love you. I forgive you. I thank you", and picture Pup's dear black face, as if he is speaking them to me. Tell us more about this poem, and experience, won't you?

Truedessa: First, I am delighted to be featured on Poets United - Poems of the Week. The poem you have selected is special to me as it came to me during a crystal bowl meditation / drumming session. I had been feeling the darkness of life with recent events in the world. My intention was to find light. My poem basically described the journey I embarked on as I slipped into the dreamscape.

For those who have never experienced anything like this, it can be overwhelming as everything seems very much alive as your senses become more acute. My intention was heard and full-filled, as I received the gift of light in the form of a firefly/lightning bug. I was touched by this gift and knew I had to bring honor to the vision and share the gift with those who might be in need of hope and light.

I love you.
   I forgive you.
      I thank you.

These are the words used in the chant of healing. May we all cup light and hold it to our hearts. Thank you, Sherry and the staff of Poets United, for creating a community filled with love.

Sherry: Thank you for writing this beautiful poem, and for sharing it with us, my friend.

And thank you to each of you talented women, for your poems, and your faithful participation at Poets United. We are what we are because of our members, and I feel very privileged to be among you.

My friends, I hope you take away something beautiful from these offerings today.  Sigh. My little cup is filled right to the brim. Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!