tinastanley

Poems for Healing

In Blackwater Woods

Leave a comment

In Blackwater Woods

In Blackwater Woods
by Mary Oliver
Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.


Leave a comment

Shifting our priorities and perspectives…

“Man has little needs and deeper needs. We’ve fallen into the mistake of living from our little needs til we have lost our deeper needs in a sort of madness. Let us prepare now for the death of our little life and reemergence in a bigger life in touch with the moving cosmos. We must get back into relation through daily ritual. We must practice again the daily ritual of dawn and noon and sunset, of kindling fire and pouring water, for the truth is, we are perishing for lack of fulfillment of our greater needs. We are cut off from the great sources of our inward nourishment and renewal. Sources that flow eternally in the universe. Vitally the human race is dying. It is like a great uprooted tree with its roots in the air. We must plant ourselves again in the universe.”
D.H. Lawrence

Visit my website: http://www.tinastanley.net


Leave a comment

Mysteries, Yes by Mary Oliver – This poem comforts and delights me!

Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
to be understood.

How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds
will never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.

Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.

Let me keep company always with those who say
“Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.

 

Visit my website at http://tinastanley.net


1 Comment

Never too late to come home to loving…..

The Healing Time

Finally on my way to yes
I bump into
all the places
where I said no
to my life
all the untended wounds
the red and purple scars
those hieroglyphs of pain
carved into my skin, my bones,
those coded messages
that send me down
the wrong street
again and again
where I find them
the old wounds
the old misdirections
and I lift them
one by one
close to my heart
and I say holy
holy.

© Pesha Joyce Gertler
Visit my website at http://www.tinastanley.net


1 Comment

You have to love Rumi…!

HEY

The grass beneath a tree is content
and silent.

A squirrel holds an acorn in its praying hands,
offering thanks, it looks like.

The nut tastes sweet; I bet the prayer spiced
it up somehow.

The broken shells fall on the grass,
and the grass looks up
and says,

“Hey.”

And the squirrel looks down
and says,

“Hey.”

I have been saying “Hey” lately too,
to God.

Formalities just weren’t
working.

Visit my website http://www.tinastanley.net