Lisa Goodwin |
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| Lisa works as a massage and shiatsu therapist in Eagan, Minnesota. She has a love for gardening, writing, painting, biking, and traveling. She has been profoundly influenced by Eckhart Tolle and Adyashanti. |
Etch a Sketch Love
Sentiment of thoughts slip
the mind now a sieve
Sand is like memories
easily erased and rearranged
differently
I Etch A Sketched you,
our relationship, our love
Small dots of perfection and
irregularities
wiped clean away
Love arises with
the roughness of your cheek
so simple
Weeding my thoughts
I used to perpetually weed my
garden
You must get rid of your weeds
I was told
They are surly and unruly
Now I see clearly the dandelion
blooms beauty like a rose
Seeing
Out of these eyes
you arise
Seeing the seen
and unseen
the in-between
To the fools
this means
nothing
Not the nothing
of something
but the nothing
of no meaning
To the dying
this meaning is
everything
The Invitation
I invite you to knock
on the door
Perhaps whisper your
questions
To wait in solitude
for an answer
In waiting
Look
In yearning
Feel
Wait until the emotions
are trapped
Snagged shut in the silence
of the shutting door
Trapped butterflies, beautiful
frenzied dance
There is no where to go
when the door is closed
In waiting
Listen
One butterfly, two butterfly
no longer frenzied
In waiting
everything stops
Waiting happens
and peace becomes
The fullness of empty
Now that nothing is gone
fullness arrives
fully fleshed out green
Laced fingers of grass
in soft flows of lilac thyme
The golden rods bowing
to the sunflowers
birthing colors I didn't
know existed
In summer's moments
with ripened fruit
emptiness
Fall marries summer
into the silence of winter
they go
In quiet frozen solitude
Earth's blanket of whiteness
I feel full
and content
God lives here
God lives here
in this strange house
the shutters pulled back
twilight and dusk
seen
the door open
rain, snow and sunshine
and all of heaven's creatures
come on through
Birds make a nest in the
heart of it
pecking away, their longing
heard
This used to be a happy house
on the hill, newly painted
This used to be a lonely house
with the shades drawn
This used to be...someone's
memory left between the
floorboards
now cracked.
This used to be a house
the driveway now
dilapidated and forlorn
the grass reclaiming
its own
This used to be a house
now God calls it home
Lisa can be reached by email at shiatsuqueen@gmail.com.
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