Philosophical Musings Poems
by Alison Stormwolf
Everyone has their own philosophy about life, suffering, mysticism, and transcendant reality. Mine has developed as I have walked the Red Road of the Spirit. When we realise that in even 'everyday' events there are signs and wonders hidden awaiting translation, yes and in the Royal Road (Carl Jung) of dreams especially. I see poetry and meaning in everything.
She observed the cobbled street
A dead end leading to a small bridge
over a river
Realising sudden significance
Skilled as she was in dream interpretation
She gave thanks silently
For this quiet sanctuary
Before the crossing...
Into the garden
In time for yet another deluge
She considered bartering her soul
That thing held sacrosanct
All these years of struggle
The one thing that bastard 'life'
Could not rob from her
but the still small voice said "no!
It's almost dawn!"
So she poured herself another glass of wine
As she cried angry hot tears
Cursing her nature of
Sometimes they visit mine
Sometimes me theirs
I saw him last night, my father
Almost 23 years gone
We laughed and talked and it was so good
Then lucidity dawned
I told him he was dead
And he told he wasn't
I told him I loved him and begged him not to leave me
He told me he never has
But the words made him gradually disappear
And I was left crying to his fading voice