Gazing Inward

I remember before we met

my heart yearned for you

like parched lips

seeking to be quenched

by cool water.

There was a yawning chasm

deep within me.

I thought only you

could fill that space.

So I searched for you

unfortunately

in placed where you weren’t to be found.

 

Instead I met others

masquerading as you

whispering sweet lies

offering empty promises

disguised as vows.

 

Then I opened my eyes

and saw truth.

Soon the day came

when searching ceased.

My battle-scarred heart

surrendered.

She sought the peace

the comfort

the intimacy

the love

that she thought

she’d only find in you

within her sacred Self.

 

Now, energy once devoted to the search

to looking outward

and feeling bereft

is devoted to gazing inward.

 

The gaping chasm is being filled

with endless devotion.

The peace

the comfort

the intimacy

the love

is all here right now

when I gaze inward.

 

I can grasp the hem of His garment.

I can wash His feet with my tears.

I can grab hold of heaven

when I gaze inward.

 

Whenever that someday is now

and I finally meet you.

My heart will recognize you

but I can already see your face

when I gaze inward.

(c) Evelyn Bourne 2011

 

 

Write Fresh: My Pen is Inspired with Hope

For the fourth year we have gathered
to share our hearts
our minds
and our words with one another.

We are spread across the globe
each with his or her own story
and path
Each with a voice
that yearns to leap from our hearts
on to the page
where others can divine their import.

We are of one tribe–
those who are compelled to write.
We all entertain a love affair with
the written word.

Sometimes the muse is benevolent
offering inspiration like water
flowing down from heaven.
Sometimes she withdraws herself
acting aloof as if she knew you not
shaming you as you battle the empty page
or the blinking cursor.

Write fresh brings new hope.
A gathering of poets in the making
along with those long in the tooth.
Scribes doing what they love
decorating the void
with the overflow of their inspired imaginations.

In this world of pain
disappointment
tragedy and despair
we have reason to hope.

As long as we can put pen to paper
we can make sense of the insanity
and bring clarity to the chaos.

We write fresh on this new endeavor
inspired with hope
writing our own destinies.

(c)2011 Evelyn Bourne

On the occasion of the first day of the ‘April Write’ group poetry project on Facebook.

A Divine Instrument

My hand moves across the page

guided by a force

an impulse outside of myself.

I can feel a subtle flow

from my crown

down my arm

to my hand.

This pure, intelligent knowingness

speaks into my mind;

informs my hand.

I watch awestruck

in virtual disbelief.

My Self watches as this body

obeys an energy from outside itself

Peace flows along with the words.

A gentle, coolness fills my chest

soothing me

dissolving apprehension.

So I trust

yielding my hand to the One

that created it.

And then just as gently as it began

it ceased.

Like a slippery fish

the energy flitted away

leaving me quietly euphoric

wondering when again

it will take my hand.

Evelyn Bourne

Copywrite 2011

 

What Are You Waiting For?

Is there magic in the mythical 11th hour?
Why do we wait,
putting off the inevitable until the bitter end?
Do we wait in hope that a champion will appear
at the last minute to rescue us from
the consequences of inaction?

What are you waiting for?
Has procrastination become a soothing drug?
Or is it a lie we keep telling ourselves
when our real intention
is to fade off into oblivion
hoping that nobody notices
that we didn’t finish what we started.

What are you waiting for?
Do you need permission to proceed?
To move beyond your comfort zone
into the unknown.

Why not let go of waiting and start doing
and being and having?

Everything you want is on the other side of fear.
It takes just a tiny bit of courage
to take the first step in faith
trusting that when you leap
the net will appear
and not let you fall.

When you let go of waiting
each step gets easier
the burden gets lighter
the path more clear.

What are you waiting for?
The world is waiting for all that you have to offer.
You have greatness within you waiting to come forth.
Within you lies infinite possibilities
and the promise of redemption.

What are you waiting for?
We are all waiting for you.

(c) 2010 Evelyn Bourne

From Where I Sit

A large branch from the tree
that grows beside my house
reaches towards my window.

From where I sit
I can see the squirrels
scurrying busily
back and forth.

They chirp greetings
to one another
as they scamper
from branch to branch.

They can see me
watching them through the window,
but I am far enough away for them
to have no fear of me.

From where I sit I hear birds
signing their good morning greetings
Some sing a “Cheep, cheep, cheep,”
while others have a more
melodious song.

From where I sit
I can see patches of bright blue
brighten up the sky.

The air is calm
The street below
still Sunday morning quiet.

From where I sit
comfortable in my bed.
My man breathing deeply
in contented sleep beside me
my pen and paper
keep me company.

I am filled with gratitude
for all that I see
from where I sit.

(c) 2010 Evelyn Bourne

I am the Word Made Flesh

God spoke a word.
I became flesh.
A spark of an idea
in the mind of the Creator of the Universe.
His thought
caused a twinkle
in the eyes of my mother and father
and soon I came into being.

Words have been dear to me
from my first knowledge of what they were
and what power they held.
Tell me a story.
Tell me I am beautiful.
Tell me you love me.
Tell me you will always be with me.

Those are the words my ears coveted
But often instead they heard,
Be quiet.
Be still.
Behave.

So, books became my friend.
A refuge,
a safe place.
Books held adventurous beginnings
perilous journeys
and happy endings.

Books were an escape from the disappointing glances
the pointed finger
the angry eyes.

I write because
the written word became
the source of my comfort and solace

One day my heart said,
“I’ll write me a world.”
and so I did.

I write because
the words flow to me
and through me like the wind
through a hollow reed.

I write to make sense
of the swirling chaos
and to share the joy of a new insight.

When I write I feel
completely alive
and in my purpose.

My pen
moving across the page
brings me peace.

© 2010 Evelyn Bourne

Do You Really See Me?

You do not see me
the me that pulsates within this form.
You reach out to touch me.
You invade my sacred space with probing eyes and hands and mouth
seeking pleasure without grasping the depth
while the yearning for satisfaction blinds you
to the truth of who I really am.

You do not listen when I speak.
My luscious lips part both wisdom and frivolity
they tell the story of pain and even the mundane
but your eyes are far from me.
Your polite silence waits for me to finish
seeking an opening
without having taken in what was shared.

It is my desire to be seen
and known
and understood
for who I truly am inside this form.

But it takes vision to see
wisdom to know
patience to understand.

There will come a time when the One with vision
will gaze upon me and see into my soul.
He will know and understand
and with his touch I will feel
Heaven.

Watching for God

My tired feet walk this luscious earth
but some days my soul longs for
that “Great gettin’ up morning”
when I will slip loose from these chains
and dance with the spirits of my ancestors
and those from generations yet born.

Yet while I tarry
my eyes are watching for God.
While this earth keeps me bound
I have been given a magic stylus
my pen
my golden key
which unlocks
hidden mysteries
it reveals deeds done in secret
recounting the story of the one
left to tell.

Yes, I am watching God
seeing what next He’ll do.
I watch this world crack open
devouring bodies
returning towering edifices to crumbled ash.

One man plunges a dagger into the heart of another
for a few pieces of paper.

One woman seeks the bed of another
for momentary pleasure.

A few plunder the fortunes of many with
impunity.

I am weeping and watching God
watching humanity show how little she has evolved.
We have devised ways to communicate through thin air
but face to face we know not what words
should part our lips.

People walk around in space
caught between heaven and earth
Where babies are dying and mothers are weeping.

So, yes, I long to fly away
from here
to a realm of perpetual
tranquility.

But while I tarry
I am given to be a scribe.
To live to tell
to share
expose
inspire
enrage.

My eyes are watching God
watching me.

Does he smile?

(c) 2010 Evelyn B. Bourne

I am Heaven

I trudge along
but my feet make no progress
I labor with no result
effort produces nothing more than a well worn rut
my heart aches in its lonliness
It longs to feel that deep connection
with another heart
I question my life
its meaning and purpose
before I reach the brink
the still small voice brings me back
it reminds me that I am heaven

I am heaven
I am an instrument of the divine
I am peace seeking its fullest expression
with a thought I create a world
my mind is a womb
nurturing ideas
bearing the fruit of my intentions

I am heaven
I echo the wisdom of the sages
I am filled with the enthusiasm
of a child
my feet have grown wings
to carry me forward
my heart has re-discovered its eternal connection
to the divine
now it no longer yearns but abides in joy

I am heaven
I live in the flow
I am a hollow reed
the shadow has no hold on me
freedom is my birthright
my destiny I complete

I am heaven
I am the one I have been waiting for

Copyright 2008 Evelyn Bourne

Spring: A Poem by Nobody in Particular

Spring’s been here mere moments
cresting the hill at Ft. Dupont
I see the sun creeping up over the horzin
bringing spring

this magic occurs each year
but my wonder never grows old
what was brittle and dead days ago
now is verdant, lush and reaching towards heaven

its an ordinary morning
I am nobody in particular
but I have poetry inside of me
mere words
but bursting with hope and promise
not unlike this precious new season

standing in witness to this rebirthing
brings renewed hopes
this endless cycle of birth and death
will continue on
there will be good days
and dark nights
there will be trials
and rejoicing
while the dream continues
God is

but today I am simply glad
to greet this newborn season
I celebrate the joy of a new day
mindful of how fleeting the moment
the gift is cherished

by Evelyn Bourne

(c) 2009