Posts Tagged ‘spirituality’


Grief does not tip-toe

it comes

on lead feet

leaving deep prints

in the earth

to collect our tears

and send them over-flowing

to the stream

that joins all sorrow

winding to the sea.

And in the walk-about

where we are left to keen

wildflowers bloom around

the weeping willow tree.



©  2018  Betty Hayes Albright



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We throw 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


and then with pockets full of wind and sky

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



© 2015, 2018 Betty Hayes Albright


(a re-post)


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(From 1976)


Awaken me,

I’m sleep walking.

In jigsaw dreams

I shadow-box

flailing fists

against the air

to shake away the trappings.

Pry open

these amnesia-clouded eyes

that they may see

beyond this tangled trail of woe –

I long to hear

the Phoenix sing.

Come knead my heart

with cosmic yeast

until my spirit rises up

to navigate the river

that will take me

to the sea.

Please awaken me.



(c) 1976, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright


Originally published in “Living Color”, (my humble chapbook) in 1976.


(a re-post)

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Each moment comes

a clean slate.

We write on it

with ink that burns us,

weep on it

with tears that boil,

toss it on a hickory stove

smearing ash

on pristine snow


but every second

rights itself

into a guiltless fire

that flares into

a longing grace

erasing clean

the errant flare

as we learn

to temper self

and kindle our own glow.



©  2012, 2018 Betty Hayes Albright


(a re-post, revised)

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Underneath the frost it turns

hidden in a fog it churns

winter snaps its coiled whip

cracks the ice but holds its grip.

It wraps the trees in shiver beads

chews on shadows, spits out seeds

to grace the gardens flocked in sleep

waiting for that northward leap

of the wandering, prodigal sun.



© 2014, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright


Wishing everyone a gentle Winter’s Solstice

and a peaceful celebration of the holidays – the holy days –

whichever days are sacred to you. 

For in the end, each day is sacred and precious.  


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We leave our warm houses

and walk the long path

to the meadow, where shadows

are caught in mid-freeze


and stillness becomes us,

a breath in the thickets

a widening of eyes

the gentle padding of time.


And from the trees

rays of sun

splay through dark branches

and land at our feet


as we raise up our arms

to welcome the moment

when light reacquaints us

with Light.



(c) 2003, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright


(re-post, revised)


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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.


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.



© 2000, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright


(originally posted in 2012, now revised)

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