Mary’s Lamb Named Ewe

Mary’s Lamb Named Ewe

Mary had a little lamb
She chose to name her Ewe.

No one knows the story of where Ewe
came from—not even Mary.

Every where Mary went, Ewe seemed to follow…
Ewe listened to whatever Mary said
and did whatever she asked.

There was something very different about Ewe.
Ewe was not afraid to be out in the pasture alone.
She enjoyed grazing.

Other sheep would join Ewe…it was then that
there always seemed to be a celebration.

Mary encouraged Ewe especially as she grew
to go out into the world and share all
the kindness, love, tenderness & mercy that
Mary had shared with Ewe.

Ewe went her ‘way’—others left their familiar
pastures and went a new way with Ewe.

More and more grazed with Ewe, but
there were some who were suspicious of Ewe.
They did not like the fact Ewe was showing
others where they could eat freely
and live abundantly.

These others were used to being in charge
of the other sheep and felt like they were
losing their stronghold.

Ewe invited these others to ‘see’ a new way
where all were welcomed—all could enjoy
a banquet of plenty if all were to be accepted
as participants in the wonderful mystery of life.

The sheep heard Ewe and went out to set a snare
to trap her—She, Ewe that is, was too wild,
thought the others, and will lead lambs astray…
We must get rid of her.

Ewe knew her end was near…Mary’s heart was broken.
Mary taught Ewe ‘goodness’ and tears spilled down
upon Ewe’s wool as Mary wept
holding her lifeless lamb.

Mary carried Ewe to a quiet place laying Ewe in a
soft bed of glorious flowers—Ewe loved flowers.

Ewe’s closest friends gathered beside Mary and they
stayed in the pasture of flowers until the
setting of the sun.

Days later…
Mary came to the place Ewe was laid BUT
Ewe was gone.

Mary stared in disBelief—
who, what could have taken Ewe’s little tent of a being?

Just then Mary heard a distinct cry.
Atop a rocky crag—why, it looked just like Ewe.

Mary thought to herself, “I must be ‘seeing’ things.”
It began to leap closer and closer to Mary—it was Ewe.

Ewe has risen.
Just how, NO ONE really knows.

Infinite Wonder

Infinite Wonder

My heart steeped in dew
barely rises in between
each breath.

So heavy, my heart, in sorrow.
Still, it knows the
joy of bliss.

A red bird sings.
Its voice soars
echoing through
the mighty branches
swaying in the breeze.

My heart lifts to reach
for the song
it knows it can sing for
itself. YET, not now.

For now the heart listens
allowing the music of
the bird’s song to fill
a breaking heart.

they do not stop—
for so many reasons,
they fall.

yes, love is why it hurts
so very badly.

We live in a world that
has everything—(in some places)
yet, we ‘cannot’ hear
the sounds of our elderly.
We do not hear the cry of the poor.
We cast out those different
and exclude them from
what we ‘think’ belongs
only to us.

This—this Creation
is a gift to ALL…
NOT only humans.

We think we are the
privileged ones.

My heart aches
for more than it can
possibly hold.

I don’t know how to carry
it.  I lay it down
while two playful robins
flutter so near my feet.

They seem to want to
carry this woe of mine
casting it into the air
returning it to the vastness
of Life~~~ Infinite Wonder.

My thoughts so finite
stretch to embrace a
new dawn…

My heart…I hear
it beating as the tears
roll down.

Rain Drops

Rain Drops

My words intermingled
in rain drops.
As soon as the ink touches
the paper, a splash
falls down upon it
erasing whatever surfaced.

How to begin?
One tear falls and then

How can there be celebration
in the streets when
one by one by one
life is taken…
limbs of life lost…
quality of life changed?

A tree branch crashes
to the ground in the heart of
the forest…she bleeds—
no one hears.

Listen…no one has won.
This was not a game.
Life is not a sport.
Creation weeps this
day mindful of what each of us
is losing.

In the name of God
some cast people to Hell.
I think in some ways
‘we’ have become our
own ‘gods’ determining
where one goes in the

Where did you learn your
theology?  Your words
are violence.  They could
never come from a
‘Source’ that loves
what has been
fashioned as GOOD.

Before anything, darkness
existed…it welcomed the
light.  Together they
knitted the great
web of life—the
chain of Being.

The nameless ‘One’
waits, breathing
silently and in the
stillness and noise
HOPES again and again to



Upon the shore
balancing on the rocks
like a trapeze artist,
‘she’ was all around me.

Each wave
rolling over and over
spraying me—filling me with glee.

I was soaked in wonder.
We played
hide and seek.

When I caught her,
I held her knowing
I had to let go
for she could not be contained.

When ‘she’ caught me,
she embraced my soul.
She pointed me in the direction
of the sun’s light.
I was blind,
but for a moment.

I saw.
I could see what
for so long had always
been, but I could not
grasp it…

Now I held it
letting it go again and again.

She breathed her
wind through
my hair.
My being shivered
and yet I was
so warm inside.

My heart laughed
and the seagulls
chimed in—
a symphony written without notes.

Others passed by
stopping for a moment to
look…they, too, saw her.

Then Sophia rolled
in her clouds
clapping her hands
in a thunderous

I did not want to
leave, but I knew
as I waved goodbye that
she was far from gone.

A Girl

A Girl

Her small voice
hushed the noise of
the T.V. blaring news
of a new Pope.

She looked up at her
mom and, with
utter delight, she
“Can a Girl be a Pope?”
Her eyes full of wonder…
her heart awaited a
response to a question
that for years had
been answered with
complete falsity.

The mom…in a soft
spoken voice—
tears slipping down
her cheek even before
the realization of the
words that she would
allow to spill from her
pursed lips said…
“Only boys can be priests.”

The child sat…
thinking only for a
moment before another
inquiry ensued.
“Does that mean girls
cannot help God?”

Do we ‘hear’ the messages
we ‘leave’ for our children?

We set the stage—
their little minds
so expansive.

We have the power to
transform/restrict their
creativity, their compassion,
their desire to do

Her question…
What will our answer be?
Perhaps it is time for us
to break the chain of
fear…speaking truths
only to let the light
that has always been
shine in NEW WAYS.



have set my ‘feet’
knotting them—
telling me a
where I
can and
cannot go.

You have
held my
‘sealing’ it,
allowing me to set
the table, prepare the
food, but you hold me
back from sharing
the words.

You decide what is
best for my body even
after it has been broken…
abused and yes, beaten.
‘One’ who is BEYOND you
speaks through the
whose breath has
blown its way into
my soul, into every
fiber, cell, pulsing
in the transformation
of my being.

I am stretched
though you try to hold me.
I reach connecting to all creation
which fills me with life.
I sing for my voice can no longer
be restrained.  My refrain—endless.

My body
like a tree
is planted in ‘sweet’
Still, the soil
holds me—
the birds nest in my arms reaching,
soaring in every
which way.

The sun warms me
while the rain bathes
my essence.

The snow freezes my
shell, my bark—yet,
my core, unseen

When leaves grow,
they join my

You can try to ‘hold’
yet, you’ll
never stop

I am a
participant in

The Tempest

The Tempest

For a time
the swirling winds
of the rushing tempest
seemed to have ceased.

I walked amongst the trees…
we chatted.
A simple song they sang…
the gentle breeze echoed through
their branches.

My heart space
A calm serenity was found
in the still silence.

Then, without notice
pellets of hail, sleet
fell from the sky.
Any subtle form of air
was now a fury
lifting me from any solid

I twirled in the air—‘freezing.’
I was caught in the rapturous

My mind raced—
I could not turn off
the noise penetrating
through my head.
My being ‘rocked.’

It was no use trying
to fight all the elements
toward my center.

I’ve known this place—
and this time I am
more aware of myself
within these encounters
of chaos.

In every way I am stretched—
refashioned and yes, maybe

The tempest far from over—
The flying debris leaves me


I see.

I vision—a way
through this ‘place’…
still, silent, alone
yet, never by

Hidden within
the tempest I am pushed.  Yet,
I do not resist.
I know I simply
must let-go.

Be Still

Be Still

sit gently upon
the budding flowers.

Suckle sweetly
the tender juices…in the heart
of the garden’s

Be Still~~~
taste and
all you ever needed
or wanted
is all
around you.

It is not simply
around you
it is
within you.

Sit quietly
and be still.



I see my breath
in the framework of the night—
it shatters like a thousand
tiny pieces of icicles in mid-air.

The cold
creates pools which form
in the very corners of my eyes…
they slip down
freezing before they spill from
my chin.

The blustering wind
pierces my cheeks
like a sewing needle
weaving its way through
a seamless garment.

Why am I out here?
To listen~~~but to what?
What is there to listen to?
A tree cracks…
a lonely leaf scurries across
the icy terrain.

I’m frozen—
my nostrils await
another breath
before ‘sealing’ closed barely re-opening.

I listen…
and hear nothing.

The silence—it’s intoxicating.
I drink it in
one shot after another
and suddenly ‘inside’
my being I’m warm.
I’m listening to the chill of
and in this moment
it is as a
burning flame.

Our Mother

Our Mother

Our Mother
You are throughout the Universe
strewn in between the galaxies
and infinite solar systems.
You are in every star beaming within
the Milky Way.
Holy Woman is your name.

Your Creation is NOW
and shall be for as long
as you desire.
There is no separation from the
Cosmic Wonders you ordained.

Each day you gift to us…
You, Holy Mother, nurture us with
sustenance from your breasts—
spill milk of a lasting kind
until we are no longer babes.
Feed us with the riches of
spiritual maturity
so that when we fly from your
womb that has carried us,
your love holds us if our wings
should tire
and we fall to the ground.

Lift us again and again
so that the resurrection of
our spirits
sets ablaze our hearts
burning with love’s desire
for you and you alone.

For in you Holy Mother
transformation dwells
awakening our minds
set free from illusions.

Forever and ever
may you birth into life
goodness and kindness
mercy and steadfastness.

May love be the endless
fruit filling us
forever and ever.


Yellow Flowers

Yellow Flowers

When I was but a child,
I wore a shirt of yellow flowers—
it was so beautiful.

I held it in my hands for a long time
before draping each of my arms
through its sleeves~~~slender shoots.

I buttoned each circular sphere
imaging myself
that very flower blossoming open
with so much wonder…

I could not wait to get to school
so as to ‘show~off’ this
dazzling cloth which my tiny tent
of a being adorned.

When I arrived at school
I was alive, unfolding…
the yellow flowers seemed to shine
from inside my heart.

I rushed to share this bouquet with
my friends, but as I approached—
yes, from a distance
they began to laugh.
I could not imagine what they were
chuckling at~~~it couldn’t be me—
could it?

As I entered the circle,
my joy suddenly shattered—
My friends began to mock, make fun of
my beautiful yellow flowered shirt.

I allowed them to pluck away
the gift of every petal…
the tiny thorns in the stems, not even
visible, pierced my fragile heart.

No one saw the tears that
blanketed my pillow that night as
I clutched the shirt in my arms.

So long I tried to pretend I did not
see the beauty of the yellow flowers…
I tried to ‘fit’ in.  I tried being
someone I was not…it felt like prison.

Then one day, walking alone,
the tears from so long ago slipped
beyond my cheeks and fell to the
ground.  I looked ‘down’ and realized
just how alone I was NOT~~~

Bursting from the earth,
tiny yellow flowers~~~
covered the damp ground
and began to reflect their beauty
upon my soul.

Lovely, these yellow flowers,
gifts given from the Source
of all things created…
and yes, even I am one~~~
budding amidst the yellow flowers.

What Gift do you Bring?

What Gift do you Bring?

A piece of Paper
empty, life-less…
without color.

A box of Pencils
endless colors…
sitting, as if in waiting.
For so long their ‘points’
longed for union~~~connection.

A Story
in a mind
always creating…
still~~~holding back
What gift can I bring?

Then ‘She’ knelt upon
the frozen earth
under the silent moon
lighting the empty paper.

She picked up the colored pencils
or maybe they picked her?
None the less,
She ‘mused’ them ‘into’ the
naked page…

Splashing with delight
She discovered ‘her-story.’
It was her gift to bring
and NOW how could she
not share it with the world?

A Love Story
filled with the tapestry of colors
and the page, or pages of paper
are anything but empty.