Our little group has gotten quite large and we are now receiving loads of art and writing every week. Therefore I find it easier to do features with a theme in mind, otherwise I could never narrow it down. This week’s theme is centered around wings, angels, death, and freedom. It is about spreading our wings and breaking past the prison of fear.
This first piece of art is by Mariska and is dedicated to her daughter who passed away as a teenager.
This poem is also about dealing with the loss of a loved one, and being able to still connect with them on the otherside.
Tears in Heaven by JetMannHenry
I decided to see a Medium when my older sister asked me
Id always said.. “Im not ready” but on this day, she said that the was coming tomorrow and when she asked.. The words slipped out – “Yes!”
7 years passed and what if I dont like what I hear.
7 years passed and what if he doesnt even come!
Which would be worse?
Am i ready to face this head on?
The medium said to me with a smile.. “Your going to be an interesting one”
He walked me through to another room and we sat in silence while he gathered his thoughts. He told me that his angel will bring forth the strongest prescence for me. One person only. And I held my breath.
My Nana. She had alot of insightful.. Heart stopping. Tear jerking messages that were so accurate, it was hard to be the skeptic I was trying to be.
At the end of this reading, he asked “Jet, is there anything you want to know?”
I took a deep breath.
He wasnt the strongest prescence so did that mean he wasnt there?
So without giving too much away.. I asked “Is there ANYONE else wanting to come through?”
He paused and said to me .. “There is. But your nana is blocking him a bit. She’s not too sure whether to let him through for you”
Tears spilled from my eyes, slowly
Then the medium began to describe him. My angel. My soul mate.
He asked if id lost a child? NO. Too old for that, the age doesnt match your own.
A brother then! NO. you only have sisters.
Then.. “Jet, I feel he is apart of you. A connection like he was a child or a sibling. A strong bond”
And I burst into sobs
He came and he was described perfectly to me. Right down to the “Ive stopped picking my nose, Jet”. (He used to wipe his Snot on me!)
And I cried some more
He apologised to me, for breaking my heart
and he confirmed something I always knew to be true.
He would have lived that night if they had known he had crashed.
He died alone and in pain.
I knew this. This made me mad and has made me mad for 7 years.
But then he told me that he was at peace and that he loved me and the gift I recieved from his mum on my 21st birthday was sent from him.
Johnny Francis Henley. I Love you so. RIP babe. ©
This next image is a powerful image by RavenSoul. To me it speaks to the freedom found in the connection of humans and nature.
I liked this poem as it also connects with that theme of freedom in nature.
“Barefoot” by tycatz
I spent my childhood
In a small white house
At the end of a long driveway
Where you couldn’t see the street
Surrounded by an endless forest.
No one told me to wear shoes,
I ran through the woods
Stepping over twigs, acorns,
Pine cones, poison ivy,
Random thorns in the soil.
My feet got dirty,
My skin grew thicker.
One day while exploring
I tripped over a wasp nest.
They all flew out,
My brother and I got stung
Many, many times
And we both cried.
Invade a wasp’s home
And they will defend it.
They were far more scared
Than I was.
Cuts, stings, bruises, splinters,
They all heal.
I no longer fear bees.
I know what poison ivy looks like.
I’m still a child of nature.
I still run barefoot.
I feel clumsy in shoes.
This next piece gives me a feeling of release from the fears and restrictions of life.
This poem is also about the release from life that death can bring. The imagery, wording, and theme here is powerful and heart wrenching.
I have seen poverty
an angelic beauty
a parched skin dark boy
bones outlining carcass
he was in my hands
and the flesh broke away
using my fingers as a sifter
falling to the ground
dying slowly without a sound
amongst sun burnt zinc
and Kente colored wood sheds
I saw family members
of this unnamed poverty
tie down their heads with
black cloth sewed from
the remaining flesh
they clasped hands under their chin
praying his soon to be rotted body
would bring life
their next meal
I heard him holding his belly
before he smiled himself away
and his lips sputtered
when death drew near
swallowing the last bit of saliva
that circled around his teeth
to ease the pain
he cried but no tears
just death writing his
last wishes on his pupils
that stared brightly
in the hot sun
he fell asleep wide awake
when his body
and hung on a clothes line
that now swings in the coolest breeze
in the darkest place on earth
as a reminder when
we neglect the least
This next image captures the essence and energy of spirit.
This poem by Rosa Cobos touches upon our own journey with our soul and breaking through the layers that binds us and keep us away from our spirit.
Crouched against dump pillows
taking the shape of a tired body,
mind elapsing ….as a lost star.
being learnt that the Cosmos stands the order,
a dancing of the celestial creatures,
expelling powder of crystal that is burning.
I had beleived that my mind was aligned with the Heaven,
and that my own voice and shimmer..
could remain in the vacuum,
long after my tired smile had dissappeared.
Was afraid of turning the lights out,
sounds are menacing and filtering emotions,
by bowells, groaning and singing old hunger´s
then I felt my fingers, my lips…all the touching sensible
that since I was a child…had been supporting my solitude.
They were hurting and it felt as something of my own…
bitting…peeling off the borders, busy teeth ..sucking mouth,
watery slipping tongue, mixtures of textures and smells,
saliva, anxiety, how sweetly they came out…until I…
Am I crazy?
What is it…pushing me,
to feel myself through such a bliss?
I found…out…long….it is there….I have had.
soul having been skinned out,
the terrible pain, raw..bleeding sense…
and the child seeing..that like a miracle,
organic, pure invertebrate blossoming…
that skin…could grew …again..
and that recovery meant that my soul was eternal,
and then….instinctively…I put my fingers into my mouth…
and felt that they were mine….
If I should feel pain…let be mine,
if you do not feed my soul love,
let my soul be fed with mine….
And the skin….keeps on growing…
again and again.
Madness…perfectly at ease.
@ Copyright Rosa Cobos 2010 . All rights reserved
Another fabulous image of a celestial being by Shoaib:
A beautiful poem by Bill Bell about prayers and fate:
You caught grace on your heel
where wings appeared
and all the day delivered
from your mercury muse.
You rolled up a wish
in a five dollar bill
then wondered why the numbers
didn’t add up to three or seven.
You called it fate
when your ship showed up late
and now you’re still working
because you thought it predetermined.
they’re there to be answered
rolled around on the edge of your mind.
Like touching the tip of your tongue
with the lead of the pencil
worded just right
orated loudly in another cosmos
He opened his eyes this morning
he squeezed his wifes hand
for things that matter
you need to ask nicely
for prayers are the currency of miracles
paid and then gone.
This image by Ming Myaskovsky alludes to the freedom and transformation that happens when we break free from the material. It symbolizes the beauty of the soul which is a deeper beauty than the physical masks we wear everyday.
This last poem is painted with surreal imagery. It takes you to a dream world where anything is possible.
I realise that I’d rather live in a world of dreams
Where the song of the butterfly wings can be heard
Where rain is diamond liquid falling from the sky
Where the mellow voice of the forest laughs softly
Where the earth lifts you to touch the clouds
To touch the voice of God chuckling as it thunders
Where the rainbow covers my perfect form as a robe
I’d rather live in a world of dreams where birds sing my name
Where horses fly me through the waters
Where mountains rhythmically bow to the melody of the sun
Where plants do not go brown
And flowers never fade
Where words fly like stars
Where stars can be held
Where the galaxy is demystified
Where I am held, heard and found
Where I am understood until I understand
Where love is in my breathe
And larger than the lense of my glasses
And goes further still
I refuse to awake
(c) siki dlanga
28 may 2010
Thankyou for taking this journey with me into the timeless, spaceless world of the soul. I hope you enjoyed these powerful works as much as I did.
Tammy (aka MoonSpiral)