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Longing and Belonging

Yesterday morning, I attended a small group from my church where we are using John O'Donohue's book, Eternal Echoes, on the theme of Longing and Belonging. Here's my writing on this topic today (I could write novels/stories/poems/plays/songs on this topic, or so it feels to me, anyway), in the form of linked cinquains. I am of course, more interested in processing feelings than writing good poems, but I still hope this is a somewhat good poem. I'll keep editing it before I publish it in a book, I promise! 

Longing and Belonging

longing

always I am

reaching into my soul

for the place to stand firmly

grounded

heart blast

as solar chimes

resound while I write this

savoring aloneness and peace

in tears

holding

sorrow and joy

in my hands at one time

longing is deep and belonging

is sky ---

sky looks

upon me now

I breathe slowly

and feel held by the world as if

mothered

written by Nessa McCasey, PTP, CPT, MENTOR

Open The Door

Go on, open the door that you have ignored for so long, 

expecting that it would only be a trick or lead to an empty room. 

Without trusting the world, nothing will result 

and the room of treasures will remain empty all your life

and you will be bereft. 

Go on, trust this world with its door everywhere. 

Open one after the other and remain committed

to trying another even if you find one is a dud.

Here, this one is waiting just for you. Your best

friend is there on the other side. It's your own heart, 

beating for your creative spirit, giving it a try. Now 

just do that again. Again. Again.     

 by Nessa McCasey, 2010

Poetry Makes My Day

Not knowing where I am going

is often the best way for me to travel.

Though common wisdom has been

to know where one wants to go

before setting out,

it works for me to start walking,

one foot in front of the other, and

then let miracles happen. Rainbows appear

at the end of a rainstorm. Smiles come my

way even when I don’t deserve them. There’s

a happy design in the clouds in the sky.

A parking spot opens up just when I need one.

And a poem comes out of the atmosphere.

Into my fingers. Onto the page.

Even without lines on the page, still,

a poem. You might think I was similar to

this wonderful poet who finds poems

on her daily walks into nature. 

The best wisdom may be that

we are all wonderful poets,

if we just let each poem have its time.

So go ahead, put one foot in front of the other,

start walking, and let another miracle happen. 

To you. To the world.

Be well and be happy,

Nessa McCasey