Be the change

We turn off the news,

to survive the day,

yet the faucet leaks

through social media.

Senseless death

revisits daily.

we become the ostriches burying

our heads in the sand.

We become athletes 

hanging up their cleats

to resist the temptation

to occupy the field

while we lay bleeding.

We harbor memories

of ruthless violence

that left a void that can't be filled.

Grace will fall

like dew drops at dawn.

Grace will emerge triumphantly.

Grace understands that

evil stalks the innocent.

Grace knows that evil festers

in the sewer of humanity.

Grace whispers,

may you be soft,

may you be malleable,

lean into the light.

Lean into the light 

as we mourn,

as tears sting,

as the heart breaks open.

Be kind,

Love well,

dream of peace.

Six Year Blog Anniversary

I fell into life's embrace,

decay crawling on my skin,

naked to be seen.

Utopia,

a place? a destination?

my soul scarred,

shattered pieces

healed by love.

My vessel fragile,

yet my spirit like a great oak tree.

How do I matter?

What is this journey

called life?

The past and the present,

side by side,

tied like a ship with a lifeboat.

Where I have been,

what I have done,

is written on my soul.

What is life, if not

for the love that I breathe,

for the love I have nurtured

for my boys.

Every breath they took,

gave me the will to be better,

to survive,

to evolve.

Love is the greatest gift,

it blooms in my heart,

it flows through my veins,

it saturates my being.

 Six years ago today I began posting on my blog, a sun kissed life. It was a difficult time, I had lost both my parents and I felt wounded, tired, and vulnerable. A desire was sparked to write again and to stand with an open heart and share it. The desire was mixed with fear of leaving myself naked to be seen, my pain expressed for strangers to see, but I took a leap. At first the posts remained empty of comments, and it was okay, because after all I was writing to find happiness within. As time went by, my blog blossomed, other bloggers that I respected came by to read, which made me happy and grateful. I was welcomed to a wonderful community of bloggers, poets, authors, and journalists. We bleed on our pages and we share our souls. My blog brought me back to the writing I had left behind. It has made me examine ordinary and extraordinary moments of my life. To all my friends I want to say thank you for embracing me with love and acceptance. I am blessed to have you all in my life!

Poetry As A Spiritual Practice

On this 2016 Summer Solstice Full moon, comes a collection of personal essays, poems and meditations as we undertake to illuminate the powerful role poetry plays in unleashing our spirits ...

I am honored and proud to share my words alongside my poet friends.

 All proceeds from the sales of this book will be donated to WriteGirl, a non-profit organization dedicated to promoting creativity and self-expression to empower girls.

 

 

https://www.amazon.com/Poetry-Spiritual-Practice-Illuminating-Awakened/dp/069274035X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1466413468&sr=1-1 

 

 

I thank all the sisters that worked and contributed to this special project sharing their empowering and inspirational offerings. A special thank you to my friend Ginny Brannan and the editor that brought us all together, Catherine Gosh.  

The color of my blood

The shape of my eyes,

the sound of my voice,

the shade of my skin,

my sexuality.

The color of my blood

the same 

as yours.

If you saw the light in my eyes,

if you saw my mother's tears,

if you felt her fears,

grief engraved on her skin.

Would you have yanked me

like a weed from the
garden of life,
Would you have shattered
me in pieces
 leaving me
to bleed out in the dark.
Ideologies differ,
dreams unalike,
my diversity
makes me
unique,
beautiful,
majestic,
a beacon in the fiber
of humanity.
The shape of my eyes,
the sound of my voice,
the shade of my skin,
my sexuality.
The color of my blood
same as yours.


This poem is dedicated to all the victims and survivors of Orlando           <3 br="">

No Boundaries

I savor the snapshots of our life,

a little boy's laughter

angelic and sweet.

We were two peas in a pod,

smiling as we welcomed the night,

books by the bedside,

your little finger curled

in the tangle of my hair,

as you pleaded for one more story.

I was your cheerleader

in games lost,

in dreams nurtured and sustained.

I wanted to see the world through

your eyes,

not mine.

You taught me lessons

in ordinary moments,

that gracefully were extraordinary.

You taught me that there is

no other option but 

the naked truth.

I should have known

that your world

would become larger

and that mine would be smaller,

that life would be complicated,

a new path

mapped with boundaries.

The storms that I endured 

would be kernels of wisdom 

to let go,

to step back,

to watch you stand on your own.

Mom

There was a comfort

knowing that I could hear 

your voice,

melt into your arms,

watch the shadows cast

on your face

and know how to bring

light into your eyes.

There was comfort in loving,

in living,

in a shared meal,

an anecdote,

in silent moments.

There was comfort 

I no longer find,

the one I felt in your womb 

or your gentle hand

on my burning forehead 

when I was sick.

I have no church or synagogue

to find refuge in.

I seek the museums 

of the world

where we once walked 

together,

I walk alone.

In their splendor

I feel you like a gentle wind

beside me,

urging me to see the magnificence. 

The art fills my soul

with curiosity and wonder.

I find you there,

loving me,

giving me the will

to find the essence

in the beauty of this life.

Women's Spiritual Poetry

I am happy to be featured here today
http://womenspiritualpoetry.blogspot.com/2016/04/fearless-by-ayala-zarfian.html