Tuesday, October 24, 2017

All Saints, Souls, Samhain

All Souls, Saints, Samhain
 and the Dead

End of harvest, the reap
Long evenings grow long and deep;
Time for our stories bold,
Ancient as the night is old.


The Tuatha de Dannan
That linger beyond the veil;
Between the worlds so thin
They cross into our din.
To lure one to dine on plates of gold,
And disappear into the fold.
For years and years…


Offerings, feasting, festival and more
Honor those that come back to the door.
For one night, for one day
Welcome both the kin and the fey.


As we all that live get grey
The young we need to pay,
With several treats
Some of them sweets
Because it hold the fearful at bay!!!!

Pray for the Dead 

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

All Things are Connected

“All Things Are Connected”
By Toni Truesdale

Circle of life.
Season’s Endless Cycle,
Clockwise and counter.
Wind patterning the rhythms of eons,
Waves breathe in and out.
Rumbling fissures erupt
Changing the tissue of Earth.
Timeless elements; All

Spiraling generations
Crossroads point to visions
Ancestors share.
Ladders of consciousness stair
Ascent and descent;

Center of the Earth.
Enclosed in the Universe.

Four Directions,
Healing Medicine,
Red, black, white and yellow
 The races of Humanity.
Roots of the Great Tree of Life;
Linking humanity, animals,
Plants, birds, insects
To the oneness of all things…

All things are connected-
T Truesdale copyright 1996 revised 10/17


Thursday, October 5, 2017

Carnage: A Requiem

There are imprints left on the land;
Deep grief and pain.
I see this, feel this, hear the sounds of tears sometimes…
It overwhelms me;
Took until my teens to realize not every feels the
The agony of others misery;
Past, present, future…

Within the cities
Frustration and anger
Imparted unknowingly;
Wear the pathos of children’s lives,
Unable to thrive in daily fear;
Heard acutely in my heart, in my body, tears in my art.

Over the western plains one day,
I just cried for the vain
Fragments of feeling left on the land
Filled with deep mourning…
The ghosts of the people, animals
Land, now devoid of life
For few shrubs can grow in grief.

The silent emotions,
I know them as my own,
I can almost touch the poignant memories.
They are so loud, so clear,silent
Songs of sorrow.

These imprints,
Unfelt by many
Still seep into the unconscious
And filter into lives unknowingly;
Harm us all.

I am trying to verbalize,
What went weeping
In despair,..
Those unswift deaths,
All the lives stolen
By history, by conquest, by the madness of violence.
Fresh and old,
Blood lies still on the land.

In the stokes of human gain;
Others died, lived and left a terrible pain
Saturated into our suffering earth.
Our World Mother grieves.
As I do,
And anyone that can hear this carnage, still
Speaking so loudly into the silence.