When the Deep Spaces Speak

When the Deep Places Speak

Awakenings –
when things open and unfurl,
fueled by the warmth of
nurturing, golden light 
from above and around
and within.
Surfaces and cells 
stretch, soften,
give voice to all
that has been and
needs acknowledgment
in the now. 
Some things,
long forgotten,
may seep to the surface
or adhere from outside.
This may ache,
 cause some quivers,
or the need to cry away.
There will likely be grief
from things known
and things not.
Another opportunity
to sit in stillness,
 let come what may,
allow it into
  the light of day.
No need to carry,
or hold on, 
or be held back
any longer.
No need to worry,

judge, 

allow concocted wrongness
 to infiltrate.

Roots hold fast,

purity flows,

love supports and embraces

when those powerful and pure

 deep places speak.

Sarah Carlson

April 7-17, 2020

The Grief of Isolation

I wrote this during a recent power outage that accompanied a spring snowstorm here in Maine. Somehow being without what electricity brings to our lives paved the way for many emotions and sensations to surface. I have hesitated to share this, but as I recover a bit from the fatigue that came after 60 hours without power, I realized how important it really is to name what's going on. Especially now. I have come to understand that in order to be with whatever comes, learn from this (or any) time in our lives, we have to acknowledge what's there.

The Grief of Isolation

First off, I do know
that I am not fully alone.
I get it, I really do.
However,
in these days and weeks,
now likely to be months,
of the physical distancing
of Covid 19,
I am isolated, 

spend much of my time solo.
A widow,
one who has worked hard
to explore and learn from
the many facets of loss,
the grief of not having him here
is true.
A mother,
who did her best to be present

with our chidren

after his death,
there is grief to what
shifted between us.
A teacher,
one who thrives
on the inlets and outlets
of sharing in a classroom community,
there is grief in not being with students,
to being unsure as to how to find a new flow.
A sister,
whose brother died long ago.
A daughter,
whose father is gone
and whose mother cannot see.
A poet,
with a book full of her love
and healing,
but that sits in boxes with
nowhere to go.
All these pieces and more
are mine,
are part of me.
There is deep grief present.
I will sit with it, learn from it,
partner it with gratitude for all that is good.
But, I had to name it.
It’s real and strong,
just like me.
I’ll be okay,
but deep grief
 is definitely present.

Sarah Carlson

April 10, 2020

To the Moon

Full Moon Rising from Mosher Hill in Farmington, Maine

To the Moon

Your presence is so steady,
your phases predictable,
your comings and goings
such a delight.
You have the power to pull tides,
shift energies,
reflect the sun’s light.
Your patterns
have a quiet
soothing majesty.
Sometimes being with you
is especially profound,
 resonates deeply,
both within and without.

On a familiar hilltop she waits,
wonders where you are
as she anticipates your full rising.
She sees the low clouds,
but doesn’t realize
how dense they are
until your vibrant light emerges,
higher in the sky than expected.
She breathes, sighs, settles.
As you slowly make your way
into the twilight sky
she feels her own light expand
with yours
as inner clouds disperse.
You gently tug her heartstrings,
allowing antiquated pulls to lessen.
She breathes, sighs, settles even more.
With one more look
she gratefully
turns toward home,
your light,
her light,
leading her
tenderly there.

Sarah Carlson

April 10, 2020