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Posts Tagged ‘evolution’

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The time arrives

when the walls come alive

and we see

between the molecules,

the shimmer and the might –

and every barricade

becomes a door.

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(c) 2002, 2019  Betty Hayes Albright

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(Image from a copyright free site, in 2011.)

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After a little time off, I’m hoping to catch up with everyone soon!

My thoughts are with everyone who is affected by the U.S. government shutdown (directly or indirectly, as we all shall be soon).  I’m very saddened by the direction our country has taken the last two years.  This too shall pass – hopefully.

 

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We chose to climb this mountain

through old brambles, over ice

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cursing barbs that scratched our ankles

damning thorns that tore our veils,

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splitting stones that skinned our reason

as the thunder rolled our tongues.

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Now we reach the sacred fire

and our hair turns scarlet

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as we catch the embers, naked

and the circle dream awakens

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to paint balm across the valley,

bleeding light into our wounds.

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(c)  1993, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright

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(An old poem, revised and dedicated to H.D. Rhoads, my mentor years ago.)

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Deep in the folds

of the flannel of night

we hear the drums call –

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     ba ba boom.

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Our eyes open wide

as we chew through the shackles

and dance ourselves free –

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      ba ba boom.

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Up the spiral we climb,

our candles held high

to shatter the gloom –

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     ba ba boom.

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At the top we leap clear

of gravity’s hold

on the weight of our words –

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     ba ba boom.

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We land on the sun

where we tear off our masks

and meet our true Selves –

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      Ba Ba Boom, Ba Ba Boom!

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(c)  1993, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post, revised…. written in 1993)

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We throw our burlap robes into the fire,

with no one left to preach, gone is the choir.

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Come weave new cloth with capers of the dawn,

in rosy flowing garbs we’ll carry on.

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Each seam we’ll sew with needles made of gold

and silver threads embroidered on each fold

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and then with pockets full of wind and sky

like kites, without their strings, we’ll learn to fly.

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© 2015, 2018 Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

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It comes in darkness

like a gentle giant

no trumpets or glare

just strong arms

that lift you

above the sharp slopes

to the top

of the mountain

you’ve climbed for so long.

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You throw off your pack

and the valley widens

into a smile

and the sun spreads

like butter

on loaves of eternity

and you finally see

that it’s you, love –

you are the giant.

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© 2000, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(originally posted in 2012, now revised)

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We toss our burlap robes into the fire,

with no one left to preach, gone is the choir.

.

Come weave new cloth with capers of the dawn,

in rosy flowing garbs we’ll carry on.

.

Each seam we’ll sew with needles made of gold

and silver threads embroidered on each fold

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and then with pockets full of wind and sky

like sacred chiffon kites we’ll learn to fly.

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© 2015, 2018 Betty Hayes Albright

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Happy New Year!

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How hard it is to see

the highest mountain for the trees

until we hear the ancient knock

of thunder sky and molten rock.

We tear away the mossy veil

that had long concealed the trail

just to find the climb is steepest

where the waterfall is deepest

and it seems we’re almost there

when we breathe the rarest air

beyond the earth, into the sun

where we learn we’ve just begun.

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(c) 1994, 2014  Betty Hayes Albright

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(another oldie)

 

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