PRECIOUS POETRY: September 2020

Red Leaves

I remember longing

as a child

for Red Leaves

Green Leaves

Yellow Leaves

Brown Leaves

I saw these every year

but I longed for Red Leaves

Ontario had Red Leaves

I saw pictures and longed for Red Leaves

in British Columbia

my home

Green Leaves

Yellow Leaves

Brown Leaves

But no Red Leaves

But Now

in Alberta

my home

I have Red Leaves

and in this moment

my heart is full

Poet's Note: written September 25, 2020

I was in the hot tub this morning admiring the red leaves on my Virginia Creepers that over the years have spread themselves on my deck lattice. The colours inspired me this morning and I was brought back to a memory of a childhood longing. Maybe it wasn't just longing for red leaves, maybe it was just longing for something I didn't have.

So what fills my heart this morning, isn't the presence of the red leaves that have adorned my deck for over ten years. But a longing I had as a child, didn't go ungiven.

But I am a 4

If I could be a 5

I would have a library of all the books I want to read

I would never be exhausted with my learning

I would feel safe in my withdrawing

I wouldn't be a slave to emotion

If I could be a 6

I would be faithful

I would be committed to a local church

I would play it safe

I wouldn't be a shit disturber

If I could be a 7

I would travel a lot

I would be happy

I would dance more

I wouldn't dwell in my sadness

If I could be an 8

I would stand up for myself

I would have an opinion

I would initiate more conversations

I wouldn't be weak

If I could be a 9

I would soak in serenity

I would love everyone

I would listen a lot

I wouldn't be so judgmental

If I could be a 1

I would have a clean house

I would be able to make fast decisions

I would do what needs to get done

I wouldn't be so disorganized

If I could be a 2

I would give more

I would share more

I would help more

I wouldn't be afraid to love

If I could be a 3

I would be motivated

I would be energized

I would finish my projects

I wouldn't waste time

But I am a 4

And I am longing

Not always seeing

That I can have the very thing

That I envy

Written September 19, 2020.

Poet's Note: My first Enneagram Poem

I have been told over and over again, by more than one Enneagram teacher that "You have a type, you are not your type". I believe that, and embrace that… but this is poetry so I will claim the 4's favourite figure of speech and tell you it's a metaphor.

2020 has been my year to discover the Enneagram. I am learning every day the intricacies of this ancient, complex map to the True Self. I enjoy the teaching in videos, books and podcasts. I like hearing how the Enneagram is helping people on their life's journey, in their marriages and with their spirituality. I am thankful for the insight, inspiration, enlightenment and community that this journey has brought.

Also please note that this poem expresses what I would do if I was each of the numbers. This is what I find attractive about the types and what I admire about them. I'm a 4… remember.. it's all about me!!!! (And if you don't know the Enneagram, you will probably miss that reference.)

The Rose in the Thorns

How do I get to the Rose

When the Thorns rip at my flesh

I bleed trying to find the flower

I have scars from wounds too deep

When all I knew were the Thorns

The Rose had not yet blossomed

Do I leave the Rose, still sheltered

Though beautiful it may be

To find it, to know it, Oh the pain

My hands, my heart, my soul still bleeds

But I haven't touched the thorns for decades

And every year, the Rose still blooms

Am I denying myself the fragrance, the beauty

Do I fear the flower

But… the Rose is not the Thorns

Can I afford to even long to get close again

For every time I think about the Rose

The Thorns are there

What must I do to heal

From the wounds, from the fear

For if I don't

I'll never know the Rose

Poets Note: Written September 14, 2020.

What Rose lies hidden in my life because of the overwhelming presence of the Thorns.

Many a time I have bled in my rose patch, but I continue to pick flowers, and trim the bushes and weed the garden, not because of the thorns, but because of the beauty of the roses.

What if I'm the one who sees and smells the beauty of the Rose, but others won't go near the bush, because all they see are the thorns. What can I do to find the Rose and show her beauty to the ones still healing from their wounds?

There are Roses in my life, surrounded by prickly Thorns. What will it take for me to reach back into that bush and find the beauty that still blooms. Oh that I would have the courage, because I don't want to imagine and live a life without the Roses

Beautiful Woman

Meeting you

Was the right

Thing to do

Beautiful Woman

I can see myself in you

Do you long to belong as I do

Do you long for the lost as I do

Do you want to be known as I do

Beautiful Woman

It took courage

To find you

And I am glad I did

Beautiful Woman

I believe you know Love

For Love found its way to you

Like Love found its way to me

Beautiful Woman

Where do we go from here

Do we continue to find each other

Do we work to know each other

Whatever the joy

Whatever the cost

Will we be friends

Poet's Note: Written September 13, 2020. This week I met a "Beautiful Woman". She opened up a window into my soul and I invited her back into a world she had lost. We found common ground and a common love. In a world where we have lost so much and continue to lose... how beautiful the chance to find something and someone that was lost.