Cedar
Body aching,
mind fatigued,
Spirit broken down ?
For every sickness
there is a plant who cures.
For every torn tapestry
there is a hand who weaves.
For every lost soul
there is a teacher waiting to reveal their
Ancestral memories.
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Also in Poetry
Live Oak
She came to us on a lazy Mother’s Day afternoon,
Carrying the story of our family between her brow.
The passages of the births and deaths of our Ancestors
Etched in lines on her hands and face.
Ylang Ylang
…Stormy nights I woke
to the scent of you visiting me yet again,
Meet me there - our place - on the illuminated
plateaus
where creation and humanity meet.
