The Circle of Life Carries On by Louise Gallagher “Help me! I’m falling,” called the leaf to the limb. The limb whispered back, “You must let go and let Mother Nature catch you.” “But it will be the end of me,” cried the leaf. “Hang on or let go, your life will end,” said the limb. “It is nature’s way..” Frightened, the leaf clung tighter to the limb as the autumn winds blew fierce. The limb shook, the leaf fell and nature had its way. Winter came followed by spring bursting with leaves unfolding. The circle of life carries on, unending.
It is the Season ©2022 Louise Gallagher It is the season of budding open new growth bursting soft as downy feathers on a gosling’s breast full of life flourishing unfolding beneath sun-soaked days stretched out along the sands of time slipping effortlessly away from winter’s grasp erasing all memory of long dark nights spent yearning for spring to awaken with its promise of life circling back into itself again and again.
I Do Not Want To Read Of War ©2022 Louise Gallagher I do not want to read of war I do not want to hear the stories look at the photos watch the videos see the bodies lying in the streets the animals left behind and killed the homes destroyed the buildings demolished I do not want to know of its power to desecrate diminish and destroy Dreams. Hope. Life. I do not want to look away. To look away is to deny the horror of what is happening to people just like me who live and work and love and play who walk their dogs and hold the hands of the ones they love and caress the faces of their children and grandchildren who go to work and drive to the grocery store or walk to their favourite coffee shop to spend an hour or two visiting with friends. I do not want to cry for the fathers, sons and daughters who put down the tools of their trades, their studies and their work to don battle dress and guns. I do not want to weep for the children and their mothers and the elderly and disabled with whom they huddle in bomb-shelters and barns and basements waiting for release waiting for a time when bombs do not desecrate diminish and destroy Dreams. Hope. Life. But I must look and see and bear witness I must acknowledge what is happening so that I can hold this hurting world in arms and words and thoughts that do not desecrate diminish or destroy Dreams. Hope. Life. So that perhaps, one day, the children and their mothers the grandparents and disabled, the fathers, sons and daughters can return home to rebuild their lives in peace.
Yesterday on FB, a friend shared a poem I wrote at the end of 2020.
I am always grateful when people share my words. I feel a big burst of joy and gratitude erupt within me. It fills my writer’s heart.
I am also glad when the sharing reminds me of what’s most important, of what matters, and what is possible.
The poem she shared was written in one of Ali Grimshaw’s writing circles, a space I regularly and gratefully share with five other women.
I am sharing it again today because while at the time, I hoped Covid would be gone last year, it still lingers. Over the past few days my eldest daughter, her husband and my grandchildren all came down with it. Several friends have succumbed to its thrall as has one of my husband’s business partners.
We continue to hold our circle tight. Limiting contact. Limiting exposure.
And still, the sun shines. The birds sing. The riveer flows, albeit through a narrow channel surrounded by ice. The trees stand sentinel, naked branches spread out as if reaching to touch the sky.
And life continues to flow full of adventures and opportunities, possibilities and new imaginings.
And through it all, this nasty little virus continues to cause illness and death, sorrow and grief.
And through it all, life continues to flow, full of births and deaths, offerings and takings, beginnings and endings.
And through it all, Love continues to call us home to where we belong.
to read the original post from December 31, 2020, click HERE.
Thank you Shannon for the reminder and the gift of your sharing.
I awoke this morning with gratitude filling my heart as I thought of all the beautiful comments and love I received yesterday.
It is hard to describe how your words and support fill my heart, lessening fear and worry and lighting up my day.
And so… I wrote this for all of you.
From Me to You Louise Gallagher If I have but one prayer let it be, Thank You. Thank you for the sunrises and settings, the clear skies and grey days. Thank you for the moments that fill my heart with joy and the ones that push it to breaking open wide to all the beauty that surrounds me. Thank you for the easy roads and rough trails. Thank you for the calm waters and stormy seas. Thank you for the love and laughter, the pain, the sorrow and tears. Thank you for all of it for all of it is held within the sacred nature of this wondrous life full of unfathomable mysteries and inexplicable tragedies, ripe with breath-taking moments of awe and back-breaking moments of grief. Thank you for all of it for all of it is a gift and within all of it Love beats its steady tattoo calling me to rise up and dance and sing and twirl about and shout out loud, I am grateful for each breath, each moment of this life and all who walk alongside me and make the hard places softer and the easy times more thrilling and the worries and dark times lighter and the joys and laughter brighter. Thank you.
Life's Untold Mysteries by Louise Gallagher Every day untold mysteries await to unfold in soft gentle ripples in grand sweeping gestures in rippling currents of ecstasy or raging waves of chaos leading to new growth, new vistas, new opportunities. We cannot live into the untold mysteries of each moment until we release our hold on what is blinding us to their presence To fly free to dive deep into life’s untold mysteries we must let go. It is never too late to let go.
Today’s poem is in response to a prompt at Eugi’s Causerie. The word prompt today is “Untold”.
Writing in response to a prompt is fun! I hope you try it.
Just click on over to Eugi’s place to participate, and to read how other’s have interpreted her prompt.
Special thanks to Lilli Ann for inspiring me to reply.
Gathering by Louise Gallagher Gathering, the circle draws us near candlelight flickering on precious faces held so dear sharing stories of our days laughing and teasing one another as only those whose stories have been woven through the warp and weft of this family tapestry can because we know there is no distance too far that cannot be bridged by two hearts beating together and weaving stories full of memory and love of life shared within the circle. As we thread our stories together, laughter, memories and love rises and we raise a glass in silent honouring of all the hearts who lost their beat in those days, not yet past but slowly now, slipping away, when we could not gather with family and friends because only the distance between us could keep us safe. We are gathering now drawing near stretching our arms around one another, curving into bodies touching, heart to heart and savouring these times where we can feel them beat in time as we gather and share laughter, love and memories of times past and loved ones lost and feeling grateful for those who made it through to be here now, gathering, the circle drawing us near, holding us safe from where so many have gone leaving behind only memories to light the empty spaces left behind.
The Wild Places by Louise Gallagher Some may call it a wilderness a vast unexplored terrain thick with brambles and vines interwoven into a thick impenetrable net of lost dreams and disappointments of life’s hurts and wounds, scars and scares holding you back from breathing freely in the light of each new dawn breaking free of night. Some may call it a wilderness I call it my heart a wild and mystical place where vast unexplored terrain rich with open spaces yearning to be discovered with dreams calling to be awoken call me to cast off life’s hurts and wounds and disappointments to jettison the scary stories I tell myself of how I will never do enough deserve better be worthy. In this wild place of my heart beating wild and free untethered to the stories I tell myself about how I will never be enough I am enough I am all I ever dreamed of I have all I ever hoped for I am all of me worthy of living with the wilds of my heart breaking and breathing, breaking and breathing free.