Healing my broken heart

These speak for themselves - two heartfelt pieces that shed light on profound movement from a deeply broken heart to one that is fully open to appreciate love that was, immerse in love that is, and... be expectant of love that will be.

A Heart Reborn

As I find my voice and learn
to trust in living my truth,
my good and caring heart
is beginning to dance.
There is an excitement,
an exuberance,
that has long
been hovering on my fringes.
I can feel it moving as my center
quivers with an energy
that is new to me.
As it awakens
my heart stretches and tests,
fills the once hidden crannies,
and turns somersaults
in my core.
Open, ready, whole -
a heart reborn.

Sarah Carlson

June 4, 2008

Peace in My Heart

I more clearly understand the shroud of
fear I have carried for so long.
I view it as a heavy, dark, red cape
with many folds that curl back on
one another providing nooks
where unknown fears have long
hidden in the shadows.
Yet now I can also picture it
as it cascades away from me,
gently curling aside and
encircling me at my feet,
layer upon layer upon layer.
For now I know that I don’t
have to understand everything
that is in those folds,
I simply have to let it fall
as it will.
That it once feigned protection,
but now is beautiful as it unwinds.
That it contains heartache,
but also much that helped
me tap the well of my own true core.
That as it falls my once
broken heart not only fully
heals, but becomes free and expansive.
I believe the dust is finally settling
from the battles that
this spunky warrior has waged,
taking on much more than
she ever could have imagined,
and now it is time
to not only know peace,
but feel it in my heart, as well.

Sarah Carlson

August 7, 2009

Perseverance - in need of a little love

The above pictures were taken one lovely spring evening in 2008 - May 28th to be exact. I often go down to my special spot by Barker Brook at that time of year. As I've related before it is always very healing and settling to be there. This particular evening I was sitting on the rocky beach letting my dog swim and play in the water - and all of a sudden I heard peeping. I looked up to see this little guy bobbing along in the flow of the brook. He noticed me and started to come my way, but Sophie (my dog) wanted to frolic in the water with him - and he wanted nothing to do with that. Sophie excitedly swam toward him and he somehow got away and went into the woods on the other side. I think it helped a bit that I was screaming at her to leave him alone...:) I looked around to see if there was a mother duck (at this point I assumed it was a duckling) anywhere around, but I didn't see or hear one at all. This intrepid little bird went through the woods and crossed the brook at a shallow area and made his way right for my feet! I just couldn't believe it. He just peeped and peeped - and anytime I moved he came with me. By this time Sophie had accepted my clear message that he was off limits for play OR for consumption. So there I stood with a little bird between my feet, no mother in sight, and nighttime coming on. I really wanted to help the little guy, but wasn't quite sure what to do. I thought that perhaps if I left him alone that his mother would come back so I reluctantly headed up the trail to home. He, however, had other ideas and followed me up a steep bank, along the trail, and up the road to my front lawn - peeping incessantly all the while! Right then and there I named him Persy - short for Perseverance.

There's much more to the story, including a Game Warden instructing me over the phone how to rock him to sleep so I could take him back where I found him in the hopes that his mother would MAYBE come back to him. By this time it was dark and, with the help of a neighbor, we were able to find someone who raised him at her home. It turned out that he was a Canadian gosling. Late in the summer he was released with a flock of geese that was living in the town park in Rangeley. I often wonder how he made out - and I will never forget how amazing it was to be sought out by a creature of the wild who needed love, care and help - and knew how to get it.

Perseverance

Baby bird, abandoned,
rides the flow of the brook.
Peeping his fear and
loneliness
he sees a chance for help.
Making his way to shore
he is challenged and threatened
by a creature larger than
himself.
He eludes the danger and
makes his way to the other side
to hide.
Knowing he cannot make it alone he
takes a chance and crosses the shallows -
drawn to the being he
somehow knows understands his needs.
He follows her,
tripping over rocks and roots,
instinctively trusting her worth.
She finds a way to help and,
in time,
he gains strength,
finds his voice,
fills out his body,
stretches his wings
and is released to enjoy
the wild and
wonderful world.

Sarah Carlson

August 24, 2008
inspired by Persy,
a Canadian gosling
who followed me home from
Barker Brook
on May 28, 2008

Good sorrow

Letting them flow led to this piece - one of my favorites in many ways.

Good Sorrow

I never thought that sorrow
could be a good thing,
but, truthfully,
when it is felt for the purpose of release,
when it is honored and not judged
it is a very good thing.
Experiencing sorrow means
that you care about
what was and, as importantly,
about what is.
It provides the outlet
for true grief to happen
as it should.
In going into the goodness
of sorrow
one can find meaning
and solace,
and love.
So I wish good sorrow
to all who have lost something
or someone.
Let it come,
let it go,
let it heal,
let it flow.
Good sorrow.

Sarah Carlson
June 24, 2008

Learning to allow them to flow

I've known that this post needed to happen because tears are so very important, but I wasn't sure just when. Today, though, I've had some gentle tears flowing and so it seems right. I think and feel that today's tears have partially been about this blog in some ways, but I'm not exactly sure. As I've said before it's been interesting to revisit all these words that came to the surface as I explored sorrow and grief. At times it's still hard to know if I'm on the right track putting all this out there. But then I have an experience like I did last night when someone approaches me and lets me know how helpful it is for them to read my words. Responses like that fortify me for sure. So today I think the tears were a very sublime mix that I really don't need to analyze or explain any further. They were just there, washed some things away, and led to my putting this post together. It's all about understanding that, contrary to what society tells us and what many of us learn, at times it IS necessary and healing to cry. These three poems represent how that extremely critical realization worked its way into my being.

True Tears of Grief

I thought I had already cried
tears of grief,
but I hadn’t really
let them flow.
Even when my
molten core erupted,
I judged.
I didn't intend to,
I just hadn’t quite fully internalized
that I belong,
I deserve, I am not wrong.
As I unravel the layers,
peel away the attachments,
and re-examine my pieces
the blankness is filling
with a deeper understanding of
my essence.
And as it does
I can finally grieve
without reservation.
I can cry gentle tears of yearning
and surrender.
I can cry cleansing tears of
purity and release.
I can cry true
tears of grief.

Sarah Carlson

March 12, 2008

Integrated Tears

And so they flow,
old tears and new.
Her tears, my tears, ours.
I can feel little girl sadness
bubbling to the surface
even before they come.
My body lets me know
with pains that are clearly
begging for an outlet.
I’m not afraid of them anymore,
understanding the need
for expression and release of
old fears, deep despair,
and multiple origins of grief.
And so they flow,
not as often,
but so very strongly when
they come.
Integrated tears that have
the power to fully
wash away unwanted debris
and make room
for experiencing the
joys and the wonders
of me.

Sarah Carlson

March 24, 2008

Rainbow Tears

The floodgates have opened
all the way
and I’m crying rainbow tears.
A multi-hued mixture
of fury, gratitude,
despair, joy, frustration
and things I cannot define.
But mostly these
beautiful and necessary droplets
are tears of grief
for what was and is now gone,
for what was not and
can never be,
for time lost living
the misperceptions I internalized.
Gently or with gusto
they come and they go -
unencumbered by judgment
or fear,
washing away anguish,
detoxifying my being
and making room for further
acknowledgment of the goodness
in me and in my world.
Rainbow tears
of honor and release.

Sarah Carlson

May 31, 2008

Letting joy in and out

I think this might be a good place to revisit that as one learns to acknowledge sadness and despair with the intent of letting go there becomes more and more room to experience other emotions ... like joy. I alluded to this earlier in the post titled Moments of Joy, but as I continued on I remember more distinctly feeling the tandem nature of letting go and being able to let other things, good things, in. I noticed this several times out in the natural world as I explored my shadow, which would sort of creep into my consciousness as a more free and playful side of me. Two of those times made their way into this poem.

I've also noticed lately that once you feel more comfortable with feeling joyful within it more naturally flows outwardly, as well.

Me and My Shadow

Hello wonderful shadow.
I’ve enjoyed your playful presence
lately.
Moon shadow, sun shadow -
my joyful side
coming to life,
testing, teasing,
no longer feeling the need
to fully hide.
Walking by the river
by the light of a full moon,
there you were
frolicking along the glowing
riverbank on the other side.
Cruising down a mountain
under a perfectly blue sky,
not a cloud in sight,
you came up from behind
and took over the run.
I felt your sheer exuberance
and joy
as we danced down the trail
with power and grace.
Welcome, shadow,
come whenever you like.
Welcome.

Sarah Carlson

February 27, 2008