Author: heatherpound

i am grieving a little, lovely poem 

that was in my head three days ago, 

but at the time of inspiration

i was much too busy to record.

~~~~

alas i can still see her frame 

but her essence now is sadly gone. 

her sister may visit in days to come 

but will never look just like she was. 

~~~~

this is not a terrible thing compared 

to major tragedies, of course,

but i think that it is still a shame as 

of her i was quite fond. 

~~~~

—busyness, while sometimes necessary, is the killer of creativity. 

©Heather Pound 2022

i pulled weary eyes away from the screen

to peer out the window, refocus, sighing

then because the day was joyless and grey 

~~~~

until i saw a tui, my favorite bringer of song, 

perched just outside, and unaware of my gaze. 

a quiet moment for him to preen, 

cloud-like plume at neck bobbed.

~~~~

tui’s feathers in sunlight are glossy, coal-black, 

and often not noticed unless they sing or the 

‘pffft pffft pffft’ of wings announce their flight.

~~~~

but due to the dullness of the day, i saw his costume 

closer than ever before, and glimpsed his 

colors true: teal, blue, bronze, iridescent swirls,

and intricately painted with finest brush.

~~~~

and i mused that absence of sun can be beautiful too, 

and turned back to task, but with a welcoming of the day

and a soul that was filled with light.

~~~~

—sometimes words just can’t quite capture a moment……but i tried, and this is a lovely photo, but still doesn’t capture what i saw!

©Heather Pound 2022

i picked up a habit along the way

of spending too much time worrying 

about things completely out of my control.

this i found to be rather tiring, to say the least,

until a very smart lady told me to 

write down my fears on a piece of paper,

one at a time. just get them out.

then slip them in a special box and put that

on a shelf. and when the same 

worry comes up again, look at the 

box and know that the worry 

doesn’t live inside you anymore,

you have put it in the box, paper prayers.

then every once in a while, open the box

and read of your fears. more often than not

those nagging worries were insignificant 

and have worked out just fine on their own

but definitely without my ‘expert’ involvement,

and i have lived lighter and slept a lot better, too.

~~~~

©Heather Pound 2022

the fog rolls in soft and comforting.

tendrils of mist whisper, “this is okay. 

you are safe, protected. you do not need 

to venture out of my embrace. that time 

will come, but not just yet. so, curl up 

on cushion soft and wait for me to leave. 

take the gift i offer now–of rest. 

~~~~

©Heather Pound 2022

sometimes

in the middle 

of seasons

of perseverance,

just doing what

you need to

every single day,

a morning will 

dawn, fresh

and clean and 

with the rising sun

you will be surprised

at how your soul

also rises within, 

and how if you stop 

even for a moment

and observe, the joy that

you thought was sound

asleep lifts up its dozy 

head to greet the day,

this impossibly exquisite

new day that swiftly dawns.

~~~~~

—surprised by joy 

©Heather Pound 2022

when i was younger

i worried about who may

or may not invite me to

the table. i feared rejection 

and saw loneliness waiting 

in the wings. and to be 

completely honest the older 

me does still somewhat 

worry about this as well.

~~~~

but my head now knows

that difference is an exiting

thing. that we are all not

‘same’ for a reason, that

diversity is what inspires

great legends, the painter’s

brush, the minstrel’s song,

the adventurer’s map.

~~~~

this beauty is thrilling and 

varied and there really 

is enough to go around. 

so, if i am not your cup of tea, 

please drink coffee instead. 

that is fine, and between us we 

make a much more interesting 

and vibrant banquet for us all.

~~~~

©Heather Pound 2022

i wonder why we think

that ‘busy’ is a lovely word,

why we consider it paramount

to all other types of living, and that 

somehow, simply being in the 

state of, creates value in the end?

~~~~

maybe we should call it ‘thief’ as 

it steals our lives away. perhaps

we could name it ‘bringer of anxiety

and stress,’ ‘excuse for not being

present,’ ‘distraction from that 

which pains us’ or titles such as these.

~~~~

regardless, it does not possess the power

that we think it wields, it does not 

reign supreme. while periods of busy

are unavoidable, seeking and normalizing

periods of peace and rest are necessary 

friends to our wellbeing.

~~~~

and maybe, with time, ‘balance’ can 

be chosen instead, priorities identified, 

and choices made to take back control 

of our minutes and our hours, 

of our schedules and our days, 

and for living, intentional living, to begin.

~~~~

©Heather Pound 2022

we know the taste sweet 

because of bitter, 

of joy because of pain,

of peace because of turmoil,

this enormous sense of 

treasure held deep within 

because we also know of loss.

~~~~~

one really does not exist 

without the other.

~~~~

this does not make the 

painful portions much easier 

to bear, but it does invite us 

to value, to notice, and to relish 

in the good, and by default, 

be more accepting of the rest.

~~~~

when painful comes to call

consider this. and when the

world is full of sunshine and

smiles, soak that in as well.

gather from each day what  

is given, and you will find 

more balance in the end.

~~~~

©Heather Pound 2022

she walked 

towards me,

arms so full

that her face 

was unseen,

and in her grasp

both fresh 

and fragrant,

were not the 

cares of this world 

or pain experienced

–i know her well, 

she had access 

to these–

but instead,

in her arms

bursting and

barely contained 

were blooms

of softness

and grace 

and a riot 

of colour 

such as i have 

never before seen

because 

on her journey 

she had not

held on 

to troubles

or pain

no, she

had hunted

wildflowers 

~~~

©Heather Pound 2022

today may be bereft, hollow, cold and tired

but this I know as sure as the sun 

rises to meet the new day,

that hope will return,

and with it bring

–joy

~~~~

it might be minute enough 

that you cannot locate it 

in the place that beats in your chest

but while it sleeps, indivisible even,

hope is wired to the human soul in a way that 

circumstance cannot fully sever, 

and if you wait for just a bit longer, patient,

a quiet resistance against despair

will awaken once again

~~~~

though hardship tries to snuff it out,

it may bend and bruise and even crack

but it is never, ever beyond repair.

so, rest assured, dear soul, 

that your hope will rise

and the light will find its way in

it could happen at any moment

and today might be that day

~~~~

©Heather Pound 2022