Bridge Neighbors

Image

 

Bridge Neighbors

 

I walk the bridges

Across the waters

That separate the

Worlds.

I long to see the in-between

Move in and out of lines

To blend in each

Opposing view

Learn the ways

And cross to slowly seep

Differing views into minds.

To bridge the gap

The bridges never could.

Pull threads in the dead of night

Lit only by the moon

To decorate the bridge

Make it a place of meeting and celebrating

Rather than of passing.

I’ll watch from high above

Hidden from view

The faces of the woken

As they meet new eyes

And weep in joy

To know their bridge bound neighbors.

 

Bridges…I love them. They are beautiful to look at and are metaphorical for me. They connect things, literally and figuratively and I just really like that. Living on an island means that I get to see and spend a lot of time in, on and around bridges, which also means they provide a lot of inspiration.

What bridges are in your life?

Advertisements

Meetings

Image

 

Meetings

 

People come to me

Sometimes I don’t know why,

Connections happen most unexpectedly.

In a coffee shop, over tea

I met a man who traveled the world,

He teaches Reiki, he paints and writes poetry.

On a bus I met a woman with her family

Who teaches high school, and sings in a choir.

At an aura workshop I met a woman

A healer, who reads tarot cards, and writes brilliantly.

In a store I met a man

An artist who sketches and draws, who speaks with such eloquence.

On a train, on a plane,

A bench on the street.

I hear the stories, people need to tell.

One look, one smile and the stranger is off,

I’ve heard of lost loves,

Of heartbreaking family affairs,

Or drunken debacles, and broken bones,

I’ve heard of new births and new loves.

I don’t have to ask

They all start to share.

An aura of love that’s what I have,

It huge and encompassing

It brings people in.

I make the connection.

I meet for the first time

A person who

Feels they’ve known me forever.

It’s quite miraculous.

When I stay open,

I meet the most interesting people

Have wonderful conversations and

Learn many things.

Meetings are the stuff of stories

The beginnings and endings

Meetings keep life fun.  

 

I was in the airport yesterday picking up my Grandfather, and thinking about how much I love the airport. I love all the people going to and fro. Inevitably in the half an hour I was standing there waiting some people came up to me and asked me to take a picture. You see I guess I’m what you would call a people magnet. Somehow no matter where I am going, I always end up talking to new people. Every train I’ve been on, every plane I’ve taken – I’ve always heard stories about someones life. It’s fascinating to me, hence this poem.

When have you struck up conversation with someone new?

From the Bottom Up

Image

My Year

A year of changes

Of internal investigation

Digging deep

Getting stuck in the mud

Tears running tracks in a

Dirt smeared face.

Getting well acquainted with

What isn’t right,

What I don’t want

To do, to feel, to be.

Spent a lot of time,

Blindly feeling about for

Something to hold on to.

Most days even in small ways

I worked, I moved towards what

I didn’t know,

Maybe still don’t completely know,

But kept at it.

Only temporarily motionless,

Only momentarily giving in to the lack of motivation,

The desire to curl up in a corner and never move.

But I moved, I walked

I thought, I felt.

Boy did I feel,

The pain, the sorrow,

The frustration, the fear,

But I kept going,

I felt it until it had run its course.

I made decisions,

I made connections,

I had realizations,

Lights went on, aha moments happened.

Joy returned.

Things I wanted showed up again,

Heart and mind started talking again.

Life became bearable,

Life became an adventure,

A delicious road leading somewhere scrumptious.

I gained clarity and insight

Into who I really am.

Spent some quality time

With me,

Walked around inside of me

To learn what I could

So that I can bring it with me out into the world.

I could probably apply what is in this poem to every year of my life. In reality every year, every, month, every day has it’s ups and downs, has moments of despondency and moments of joy. Every year, every month, every day, every moment I work on finding a  balance, I keep moving to see, to feel what’s next. How can you relate to this? When have you been able to keep moving even when it all seemed hopeless?