if you listen
inside you’ll hear
a whisper, 
everything – 
good or bad
light or dark
kind or cruel – 
passes into
the next moment
where possibility
waits like dew 
on the morning grass. 

This poem is also part of a collection I put together called Meditative Blossoms.

tenderly held

Keswick England2.JPG

tenderly held

Like a small child crying out in the night,

my suffering only wants to be acknowledged

tenderly held for a moment

and released to freedom.

I wrote this short poem in recognition of the value in acknowledging our emotions as the arise so they become free to move on.

* I took this photo of a mother and baby while driving in the area of Keswick England.

finding my way


Finding My Way

How do I respond to the lone tree in the field
its branches outstretched with uncertainty

Shall I walk up and wrap my arms around it
with a grip that gives it no choice but to stand tall

Maybe I step into the gentle stream by its side
allowing the soothing, clear water to carry me away

Perhaps my eyes hold the color of the light upon its leaves
to guide me moment by moment in finding my way


This is a revised version of a poem that I wrote about 6 years ago and posted on one of my earlier blogs, Mostly My Heart Sings. Time definitely has a way of softening things. Anniversaries of my breast cancer diagnosis, my lumpectomy and my mastectomy have passed and I didn’t even notice. That’s what the distance of 8 years can do. I found my way through uncertainty with a little gripping, a lot of floating, and mostly keeping my eye on the light.


* I took this photo of the afternoon sunlight streaming through the maple tree in front of our motel room in Door County, Wisconsin this past August.