Saturday, November 7, 2015

November Dance

she dances with ease,
upon the leaves-
of November,
finding her colors-
blend into earth-
she dances as she pleases,
without caring who
sees her,
she follows the steps-
and makes them her-
own.
twirling with the winds,
of change-
grateful for,
the song she sang,
just a melody-
to coax her steps,
moving to the shifts,
that haven’t happen-
yet,
but she is ready to dance-
to the season of her heart-
drum beating-
rhythm seeking,
ready to take part-
in the soul dance,
of her life. 
Heart's Calling
By Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg ©


Thursday, October 29, 2015

Journey

though my weary,
tries to consume me-
I let what empowers me,
come to bring lightness-
to my movement,
I do not lay down,
upon my broken path-
as it mends and blends,
with the earth leaves-
that carpet the layers,
of my treading-
they fall and fold,
into crimson and orange-
kissing yellow to brown,
I reach into the winds-
that carry them,
letting my thoughts-
rise with them,
from my tired sky inside-
I come pressing foot,
onto the continuing-
journey of me,
movement comes to awaken me-
from my hesitation.
Author Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg ©




Monday, October 26, 2015

Fall









"What About Me"



There's a little boy waitin' at the counter of the corner shop
He's been waitin' down there
Waiting half the day
We never ever see him from the top
He gets pushed around
Knocked to the ground
But he gets to his feet and he says...

What about me
It isn't fair
I've had enough now I wasnt my share
Can't you see
I wanna live
But you just take more then you give

There's a pretty girl standing at the counter of the corner shop

She's been waitin' back there
Waitin' for her dreams
Her dreams walk in and I begged 'em to stop
Well she's not too proud
To cry out loud
She runs to the street and she screams:

What about me
It isn't fair
I've had enough now I wasn't my share
Can't you see
I wanna live
But you just take more then you give

So take a step back and see the little people
They may be young
But they're the ones who make the big people big
So listen
As they whisper
What about me

Now I'm standing on the corner all the world's gone home
Nobody's changed
Nobody's been saved
And I'm feeling cold and alone
I guess I'm lucky
I smile a lot
But sometimes I wish for more
Then I go...

What about me
It isn't fair
I've had enough now I wasn't my share
Can't you see
I wanna live
But you just take more what about me
It isn't fair
I've had enough now I want my share
Can't you see
I wanna live
But you just take more
You just take more
You just take more then you give

What about me
What about me
What about me

SHAYNE WARD




Sunday, October 25, 2015

Movement

movement of soul,
it rises-
to gentle motion,
in silent waking-
the movement,
of my breath-
follows,
my heart’s rhythm-
flowing through my veins.
movement of my mind,
consciousness opening-
movement seeking,
breaking through-
barriers that exist,
the mindful dance-
to be free.
movement of my body,
arms raised-
in swirling adoration,
step on earth-
that nourishes,
my path.
I dance to,
my movement-
I become one,
with the motion-
of all of me.
Author Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg ©

Take Refuge in Silence

All sound arises out of Silence
and dissolves into Silence.
All thought arises out of Silence
and dissolves into Silence.
The universe arises out of Silence
and dissolves into Silence.
Suffering arises out of Silence
and dissolves into Silence.
The unbounded spaciousness of Silence,
filled with the clear light of Awareness,
dissolves the roots of pain and sorrow.
Take refuge in Silence and know
unshakable joy.
~
by Kalidas (Lawrence Edwards)


Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Crimson

I hold your bending stem,
crimson red you are-
as I hold you steady,
above what I hold-
so deep within me.
red as my heart,
that cracks open wide-
the rage,
the fear,
the tears,
that holds no promise,
to what was.
I see the veins,
of a once pulsing life-
of when you once lived,
your colors flushing-
into brilliance,
against the cool gray sky.
you curl slightly inward,
towards your dying breath-
I hesitate a moment,
for your beauty-
for a life that once,
belonged to me.
I release it now,
glancing down in the depth-
of the void of unknowing,
I let you go,
as you fall-
into the emptiness,
yes, what was once-
so vibrant and new,
death now becomes you-
but life for me,
will begin again.
Heart's Calling
Author Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg ©


Space

I gently cradle,
the space between-
my soul and emotions,
the balance between-
dark and light,
that layers me with-
peace and grace,
I see the beginning's edge-
cut through the dark,
intentions now spoken-
from the depths of me,
New Moon holds this space-
where dark meets light,
on this unfolding night-
what balances the scales,
what takes what howls deep-
and brings it to song,
reaching the bravery of me-
that comes with the conscious step,
allowing it to fall from me-
the heaviness of being,
what no longer belongs here-
let me nestle against the heart,
of the New Moon-
take the space between my breaths,
as sighs,
as prayers,
as thoughts to opening-
allowing love to cover all,
the empty and crying spaces,
bringing release and clarity-
to the becoming of me.
Author Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg (C)




Push Through

when I want to hold,
myself deep-
hide from the world’s,
rising over me-
I push through…
I push through,
the entanglement of-
wants and needs,
interweaving thorns and weeds-
life will hold,
the worse and the best of it-
I push through…
I push through,
the ache-
the muck,
the breaking it back-
as it falls from me,
behind me-
leaving dust,
pushing through the fire-
that licks my feet,
of me treading through-
emerging and flying,
pass the pushing through...
I push through,
the quiet and still-
the noise engulfing me,
I claim the breath-
that keeps me at ease,
to my surrendering peace-
I push through.
Author Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg ©




The Gift


The gift in its giving,
its opening,
receiving,
holds the moment of gathering-
precious mementos,
all in neat little boxes-
I grasp to hold such,
gifts close to me-
but what is given,
can easily be lost or taken away-
the gifts I seek,
unlocks what is inside-
between the deep of me,
I no longer hold what-
the world gives and takes,
what comes to me-
is released to the ashes,
of my memories-
what I cling to more,
than what is tangible or solid-
wrapped with red ribbons,
at Christmas time-
what surpasses time,
and the seasons turning-
held in the gift,
of infinite love-
gift of all gifts,
that rises in my heart-
of my ready living.
Author Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg ©

Thank You

When life is sweet, say thank you and celebrate. And when life is bitter, say thank you and grow.
~ Shauna Niequist,






Monday, October 12, 2015

Heart

There's a hole in my heart,
hollowed out by disbelief-
love so bold & vibrant,
now gone-
it sits empty & cold,
shaking in bewilderment-
wondering how it became,
so open & lost-
But I see its hollowness,
being replace by hope-
love's Light has flood it with purpose,
For pain may have ripped-
into my day,
cover my eyes-
with pools of tears,
that have swelled up and dropped upon my moments with sorrow.
little by little,
I will begin-
to be truly whole again,
breathing in sweet surrender,
to a love stronger & more complete-
capturing my loneliness,
filling me with vision-
compassion overflowing,
letting peace remain now,
entering this moment-
and into the next.
Author Maureen Meshenberg







Saturday, October 10, 2015

Bend

Heart's Calling
let me bend between,
the thoughts that try-
to sabotage me,
bring me to dance-
through the corridors,
of my soul-
where the light is so bright, 
it almost blinds me-
I close my eyes,
let the warmth of it-
seep through me,
pour through every crevice,
that tries to-
paralyze me.
the fire that holds,
my desire for me to flow,
to let them go, watch them-
rise like ashes from me.
come to the peaceful rest,
of bliss inviting-
when I meditate with calm,
and go within me.
I see things in life,
that happen-
that try to take,
pieces of my soul-
take control,
oh precious heart,
let it all go-
what comes up as,
fear trying to surround me-
let it no longer take hold,
when I reside within-
oh to fold out and just be,
the truth that speaks-
to trust and believe,
listening to the voice-
inside my she. 

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Forsaken


what is forsaken in the hidden places,
what bruises the soul, that you let go-
to fall down so deep,
your heart weeps for recovering-
light of the angels stream through,
the dark hold-
what tries to chain us to the depths of black,
love tethers us to light and pull us through-
no place hides that beauty of your glow,
you are love and light you know-
even if you feel like its lost from you now,
for all that tries to bring you to abandon-
is left in the dust of the fire that burns-
through you emptied hollow places,
flooding it with warm love and truth-
what creeps underneath is casted away,
love conquers the battlefield of your wounding-
heals you inside and out. 
Author Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg ©
Artist Ella Nowak


Thursday, September 10, 2015

Pain

“Pain is the doorway to the here and now. Physical or emotional pain is the ultimate form of ground, saying, to each of us, in effect, there is no other place than this place, no other body than this body, no other limb or joint or pang or sharpness but this searing presence. Pain asks us to heal by focusing on the very center of the actual torment and the very way the pain is felt.
Pain is an introduction and then an apprenticeship to alertness and particularity. Through the radical undoing and debilitation of repeated pain we are reacquainted with the essentialities of place and time and existence itself. In deep pain we have energy only for what we can do wholeheartedly and then, only within a narrow range of motion, metaphorically or physically, from tying our shoe-lace to holding the essential core conversations that are reciprocal and reinforcing within the close-in circle of those we love. Pain teaches us a fine economy, in movement, in what we choose to do, in the heart’s affections, in what we ask of our selves and eventually in what we ask of others.
Pain’s beautiful humiliations followed fully make us naturally and sincerely humble and force us to put aside the guise of pretence. In real pain we have no other choice but to learn to ask for help on a daily basis. Pain tells us we belong and cannot live forever alone or in isolation. Pain makes us understand reciprocation. In real pain we often have nothing to give back other than our own gratitude, a smile that looks half way to a grimace or the passing friendship of the thankful moment to a helpful stranger, and pain is an introduction to real friendship, it tests those friends we think we already have but also introduces us to those who newly and surprisingly come to our aid.
Pain is the first proper step to real compassion; it can be a foundation for understanding all those who struggle with their existence. Experiencing real pain ourselves, our moral superiority comes to an end; we stop urging others to get with the program, to get their act together or to sharpen up, and start to look for the particular form of debilitation, visible or invisible that every person struggles to overcome. We suddenly find instead, our understanding and compassion engaged as to why others may find it hard to fully participate.
Strangely, the narrow focus that is the central and most difficult aspect of bodily pain, calls for the greater perspective, for a bigger, more generous sense of humor. With the grand perspective real pain is never far from real laughter – at our self or for another watching that self –laughter at the predicament or the physical absurdity that has become a daily experience. Pain makes drama of an everyday life with our body and our presence firmly caught on stage and in the spotlight: we are visible to others in a way over which we have no choice, limping here or leaning there.
Lastly, pain is appreciation; above all for the simple possibility and gift of a pain free life- all the rest is a bonus. Others do not know the gift in simply being healthy, of being unconsciously free to move or walk or run. Pain is a lonely road, no one can know the measure of our particular agonies, but through pain we have the possibility, just the possibility, of coming to know others as we have, with so much difficulty, come to know ourselves.”
 by David Whyte

Saturday, September 5, 2015

Hearts Calling

sometimes I feel like life is trying to drown me, I can't catch my breath, 
but this I know, the thread of Love is always there to pull me through ~
I feel like I'm floating,
under water-
seeing the outline of trees,
so tender and green-
dipping leaves,
branches bending as if-
to rescue me,
unable to surge through and above-
unable to breathe,
falling under and over-
your words sting and ache me,
I am not perfectly human-
I am only just me,
gasping between the waves-
descending upon me,
ascending and reaching in between-
the days that lay on each other,
covering me with deep water-
but then I rise,
I touch sky clouds-
that swell with rain,
drenching upon my pain-
all falling down,
not making excuses-
or chatter of blame,
I am no longer the same-
even in the doubt of my being,
I rise to grasp the thread of love-
as I reach towards the sweet sky,
wings open now,
ready to fly.
Author Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg ©
Artist Erika Craig

Friday, September 4, 2015

"HOME,"

"HOME," by Somali poet Warsan Shire:
no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well
your neighbours running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won't let you stay.
no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it's not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn't be going back.
you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied
no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough
the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off
or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important
no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i've become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here.
by Somali poet, Warsan Shire

Thursday, September 3, 2015

Happy birthday Henry!


A brief, momentary glimpse of beauty often softens and touches our hearts
 in a tender and profound way, opening our eyes with reverence and
 awe to the sacredness of life.
~ Mary Ann Byrne





Saturday, August 29, 2015

Supper Moon


super moon touches the earth of me,
wide and expanding-
through the ethereal movement,
of the flow of my soul-
journey reaching deep,
to hidden dirt and twigged paths-
that hold the weight of me,
I lift myself towards the light that reaches-
to touch the mystery of my dreams,
bringing visions revealing-
what calls so deep,
echoes my name again and again-
as a returning to the whole of me,
what sheds from me,
deaden earth washes away-
through waters of redeeming,
I will not let it cling to me-
like guilt and shame,
removing the resisting-
what obstructs my journey’s movement,
will break away to find me-
laying empty and ready,
I will cling to the Divine space of light-
that touches me,
earth,
and sky,
super moon holds the fullness of light-
breathes it across the-
universes of our beings,
our healing,
our coming,
to the holy place within.

Author Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg © 
Artist Josephine Wall

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Enlightenment

Enlightenment is the key to everything, and it is the key to intimacy, because it is the goal of true authenticity.
~ Marianne Williamson

Soul

Each flower is a soul opening out to nature.
~ Gerald De Nerval





Happy New Year 2

​I call this Ukrainian New Year a tradition of celebrating using the Georgian calendar.