"It is possible we do not yet understand the true pathology of homesickness...
Have wood, field, rock, and stream vested in us something of theirs? -E.M.Thomas

Head-sick, Heart-sick, Home-sick
days sliding by with the orbs across the sky
closed eyes
I open my mouth to speak and the words stick.
Woods-sick, through these walls the forest calls
& and I can find no rest
in my mind from the siren music
mantra haunting dryad's song
as I struggle to find the difference
between myself and stone
so far from home
in my dreams my heart has flown
to the places of the wild
pathways of the child
reaching roots deep into sweet earth
circling rebirth on wings of light
golden flight ignites heart fire
ascension with both feet on the ground
song of my heart resounds
through this land
don't want to wake from this bliss
gentle kiss of dreamscape
lovers tryst arrayed in green
curve of stream, wonder dream
transcendent state of being
crazy things I've wished wash over me
& flow away, blow away,
leaves in the wind
lost friends
on the this winding road with no end
dawn & we begin again, alone.
Head-sick, Heart-sick, Home-sick
broken dreams subvert this perfect Universe
convert beyond religion
to converse with the stars
echoing eternal inferno.

Laura B~2007

The Face of Gaia

How can my tongue not sing with joy
on a day so dearly blessed?
spring flowers burst from
mossy tree roots
& the face of gaia is my smiling reflection.

Heart Growth

pure coeur
anahata green my fields stretch
to embrace forest
horizon kissing sky

Nexus

here the air smells of heather and bracken
the bread of our Mother's hearth
moss and loam gloaming
fragrance drunk i sing unbidden
pausing in the rain to remember myself
before crossing the stoop
worn by myriad foot passages
here in my inner room
shadows fall heavy against brilliance
grey alive with rainbow tone poems
my being a totem of love
fingers grazing surface
i gasp grasp
breath with gratitude
calm lapping ripples out
relax into bliss
this haven for a wildheart unbroken
enfolds
and i dance-
limbic tree-wise wind-woken
shift tetonic
i quake awake
as gaia serves on these plates
bittersweet lessons to we students of the moment
a single child born of stars
i dance-
cloud-swift limbic systematized resonance
vortex cortex
interpretations of motion
this loom weaving rhythms
this womb of Man bleeding with the moon
i dance-
stylized reality
bolding your italics
rune-writ sans-script
i've transformed perception to house
new thought
processing your circuitry
i've mapped this place like a blind man
honed vision
on the stones of experience
i raise humble altars
pour myself as libation
laid prostrate before Divinity
endless mantra of liquid gold
pours from my lips
musical composition
scarab vishudda
speaking my True Being
here, threshold of the event horizon
the air smells of primal creation
rose heart aflame
seeds and ashes
we effloresce on the precipice
poised against dawn remembrance
heart of my heart
i am
how far i have traveled
to find you here again within me
entered silent and sure
subtle knife carving doors
your entrance reshapes my Temple
i -suddenly- am open to our union
your love moves through layers
dust flies motes displaced
laid bare i stand
pale rose blooming for the Sun
i shed this skin
return my bones earthward
and rise in this vision only light
alive only in dream
while your love typed long letters
on the pages of my heart
and left them
crumpled and rustling in the wind
by a window just visited by rain
here inside my room of self
eyes awash
i pause to remember myself
gasp grasp
deep breaths of gratitude
here the air smells of heaven
cedar smoke rising from my heart
moss and loam gloaming
now pausing as cherry blossoms
drift across my path
i remember myself
as an angel
here in  my inner dream
i habitate the wild
rainbow prism bones
i dance-
for the Ancestors
my being a totem of love
finger-forming i reform this Temple
with gratitude
calm-encased drifting astral streaming
breath ripples out
this creation
i dance-
bird-like wing crest
dissolves into wave hitting sand
smudge my heart with the smoke of ancient wisdom
i purify this land
a single child born of stars
i dance
in my empty house
free bliss movements of moments
for the joy of being
alive

Tea Time

Art by Saliwanchik

High time for a cupa tea, methinks...