Heather Pound

These bodies that I birthed into existence

Precious like no other

Growing, changing, spreading their wings

I want them to fly, but still—

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These hours that we linger in the same space

Laughing, talking, just simply being

These are the moments worth savouring

~~~~

I drink in all that they are, filing away snapshots and smiles

Mental pictures to pull out later and savour

A steaming cup of cocoa on a brisk winters night

Nourishing warmth to my soul

~~~~

Bittersweet memories of giggles and tiny toes

Now walking slower, more measured, grown

Soft cheek became angled jaw–yet none the less adored

A masterpiece of heart and womb

~~~~

Fly little bird, fly

But remember where you can come back to rest

I’ve sheltered you from the storm before, I can do it again

Spread your wings, grow stronger, but always know

There’s a safe space in my arms

~~~~

©Heather Pound 2021

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If Christmas is a difficult day for you, please let it become this, a reminder that YOU are a treasured and priceless gift. The King of the Universe and I both firmly agree on this!

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©Heather Pound 2021

As I have sat and listened to people talk about

their lives, and I ask questions such as, “What

would it be like if you were able to let this

thought or feeling go,” they almost always give

a similar answer around something to do with

—peace

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Peace is a powerful notion for a heart that is seeking solace.

All of mankind can relate, at least on some level, to this.

But perhaps peace is a also precursor,

a doorway emotion that leads to other wonderful things,

but must be experienced first to amplify the sound of the rest.

A baseline of calm necessary before joy or delight

or other goodness can fully arrive

~~~~

Maybe that is why Someone Divine once said,

“My peace I leave with you; my peace I give you,”

knowing that this is a significant gift

with power to soothe souls who are crying

out in desperation for many other things

—but first of all for peace

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©Heather Pound 2021

—-The Light of the World came, lived, died, and rose to offer us the miraculous gift of peace. Merry Christmas from my heart to yours!

Your hope might be planted deep in the soil,

cracked and waiting for moisture,

and while that might not be pleasant on

this morning or the next,

one beautiful thing about the storms of life

is that they always bring the rain

And before you know it,

hope–the thing that your thought you had

forever abandoned, will saturated

from deep, dark sleep awake

and you might just be surprised at how

quickly it sprouts again

You may not believe me today

or even tomorrow—but you will again

I know I can promise you this

~~~~

©Heather Pound 2021

Some people call this this ‘silly season,’ but perhaps we can all learn a few things from my cat!

©Heather Pound 2021

It’s taken me a while, but I’m learning to embrace

something that everyone feels,

but some of us live half their lives–or more

not being able to do

It was almost the ending of me

~~~

The expression, or even the recognition of 

our very own needs

Did I say ‘own’? Shock and gasp!

Is that even acceptable, selfish at the core?

It’s silly, isn’t it to see everyone else’s,

but ignore our own

~~~~

This. The issue of many women that I know

Issuing out their lives for everyone else, expected

Bleeding for those around them,

but dried out by the doing, yesterday’s tea leaves

left at the bottom 

~~~~

We can resent those that we love

because they don’t acknowledge our needs,

but how can they when we

don’t even know what they are?

Or pretend that we’re fine when, really, we’re empty

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Pour into your own cup first

because we can overflow

but it’s impossible to let others sip

when there’s nothing left there to start with

~~~~

©Heather Pound 2021

Coffee cup in hand, early morning light,

pondering the tasks ahead,

just another day today, right?

But stop, what looms ahead is fresh and

clean and powered by a stunning thing

called—choice

~~~~

A myriad of possibilities ripples up and

down the tunnel of time. Exquisite freedom

and yet responsibility, wrapped up in a

gleaming bow of mist and sunrise,

making each and every day

significant

~~~~

So be present in the things that you choose,

choose them today rather than allowing

the day to choose you

~~~~

©Heather Pound 2021

What does it cost us to be kind?

Not a whole lot really, other than

not fostering offence, or the building up

of anger. Avoiding letting bitterness

take up residence and getting wrinkles in

the process. So, there you go,

unless you want to pay a lot of

cash for face creams and the like,

and vigorously put exhausting effort

into gloom-ridden things,

embrace the less expensive,

less taxing option

of choosing to just be kind,

not only in what you do

but in what goes on inside

~~~~

©Heather Pound 2021

Who are we trying to impress

as we stumble along, faltering

under a gigantic load that we

were never ever meant to bear?

It’s as if we are trying to prove

to the heavens above that we are

strong enough to do each and

every thing completely on our own

—folly

~~~~

Perhaps this is the definition of

a heart filled with the wrong

kind of pride. I can be proud

of you, but if I am puffed up

with pride in me then I won’t

see my feet clearly in front of

me and will quickly tumble

and drop that weight that

I should have asked for

support for right from the start

—community

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Or maybe we think that we

need to carry the weight to

prove our value, feeling

worthless or ‘less than’

Attempting a feat such as

this is going to damage us

in the end, wearing us down,

doing the opposite. Asking for

assistance might just give

us a glimpse of how others

are actually be prepared to help,

showing us that our value

is not dependent the things that

we do, but on who we are instead

—acceptance

~~~~

©Heather Pound 2021

Welling up inside, unexpected,

an uncomfortable balloon expands

Momentary worry because of wondering

just how big this feeling will become

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This time it was the angels that come out

once a year to decorate the tree,

each one lovingly penciled with our names

He carved them quite some time ago

with hands that now have been with the angels

for four years past. Him, the person

that first defined ‘safety’ in my world

~~~~

A memory of funny face and playful wave

making light of a terrible moment

knowing that this would be

our very last glimpse

of each other in this life

His body failing, my own family

calling me back to the other side of the world

The wooden angels remind me today

of this last great gift of kindness that he gave

~~~~

Grief is a funny beast, sleeping longer

and longer the older it grows, but then

waking up to roar even if just for a moment

Profound sadness, intertwined and softened

with love and laughter—and memories

~~~~

©Heather Pound 2021