Anne Heck

Heart Power

In the fall of 2004, I began sitting with a Cherokee medicine man  whose teachings have led me to look at the signs and symbols of my life in a new way and to open to the infinite possibilities available in life.

I've observed myself over the past four years move more fully into operating from a heart space rather than from my head, which is both refreshing and powerful.  I wrote this poem in the winter of 2004 and am still moved by its words.  It's entitled  Heart Power.

Sunrise from the mountaintop
Dense earth between my toes
Standing ‘neath the mighty oak
Sensing wisdom it bestows

Talking with the animals
Conversing with the wind
Knowing in my heart
Things my mind can’t comprehend

I’ve hidden behind intellect
I’ve scoffed at how I feel
I’ve asked so very many times
If all of this is real

I listen to the silence
Hearing voices soft and clear
Telling me with confidence
There’s nothing I need fear

And so I trust the silence
Putting heart before my head
‘Cause I know it’s in this spirit
That we all are surely led

I need not have a reason
Only know I made this choice
It’s with this step of faith
I find power in my voice

And as I speak my truth
I sense movement with each word
With this power mountains shift
I cannot become deterred

Now I ride upon the wind
Whisper secrets to the crow
Talk openly with angels
‘Cause in my heart I know

That I create the heavens
Right here upon the earth
Through my imagination
I continually give birth

‘What’s real?’ ‘s not the question
‘What’s possible?’ is mine
Shall I dance with lady slippers?
Drink the nectar columbine?

Shall I float on leaves carried by the wind?
Drink raindrops off the grass
Shall I brush my hair with sunshine?
Weave a web of clear blue glass?

I’d like to fly with eagles
Releasing hold on all I know
I stand upon the cliff’s edge
And feel the breezes blow

Without a thought, I take a step
Sweet spirit carries me
It’s all that I’ve imagined
My heart has set me free

Passion

So full
Boldness soars from my being
Like leaves from the maple
On a windy fall day

Strip my soul
Unveil my innocent branches
That I may sway impassioned
Vital in my vulnerability

Open to life’s mystery
With potent honesty
Tapped from my heart
Sweet flow of wisdom

I who have censored
Pure essence
Now robust
In my innocence

I am the voice
Worthy and clear
In this forest
Listen

Artist’s Counsel

A day of wind or rain
Will surely draw this color
To the base of my canvas

Oak arms and maple fingers
Will stand still and proud
Against the cool clouded sky

Shall I prepare my palette
For that splendor
Or perhaps when

Raccoons scuttle nose to tail
Through dry leaves
Seeking food and

Crow sounds above
“NOW, NOW!
Capture this moment”

Don't Make Spirit Too Small

Don’t make Spirit too small
Lest It become hidden amidst books
Dog-eared and dusty high on a shelf
Or as the sun fades
Forgotten against the backdrop of night

Don’t make Spirit too small
One flowered stem of beauty
The magnificence of which is
Absorbed into life’s landscape
Overlooked as the boy’s finger
That holds the dike

Don’t make Spirit too small
Our cares overshadowing
The Omnipotence that breathes
Life into the newborn child
And dreams the magic
Weaving of a snowflake

Don’t make Spirit too small
Like the mud-filled puddle
Which soils our shoe
While the mighty tide pulses our being
Bringing infinite treasure ashore

Don’t make Spirit too small
Like the lone song of woodthrush
Drowned in the chatter of mind
Its sweet morning reverie
One piece of the orchestra
Embraced only by the rising sun 

Don’t make Spirit too small
For as you magnify Its essence
You become blinded by Its Brilliance

Hidden in Years of Mothering

Barren as my daughter’s cradle
Her quilt still folded neatly
I contemplate my reflection
Eclipsed by kitchen light

As I sift through piles of dishes
And memories of dinner blessings
And holding hands
Hands so small and soft and full of life

I take in my world through timid eyes
Squinting for fear of being seen
Like a child who hides her face
And wonders where you are

I find myself
Hidden in years of mothering,
Still as the doll perched on the dresser
Waiting to be found by those searching

One morning I discover myself
Draped across the sun-dappled sheets
Exposed as the unforgiving colors
Emblazoned on a white canvas

Remote treasure now unearthed
Wild vines spring forth
Boasting tender full berries

Awaiting hands to set them free
Lips to exploit soul’s yearning
Such voluminous flow
Overcomes the page, the portrait

Still life no longer still
I open the bedroom door
Into a new day

soul silence

empty words float by
like clouds
blocking the glow
of soul whispers
full of void
they open up
crying the depth
of lives unlived
the richness of
untold stories
runs with the rivers
feeds the fields
baptizes the children
my thirst immense
I scour ocean bottom
touching silence
and the All
becomes me

Dawn Fox

Mornings are sacred time for me.  I awake early – before children – put air in my tires, fill water bottles, pull on my biking shorts head out to the Blue Ridge Parkway for a ride.  I’m grateful for this time for many reasons.  It’s my opportunity to greet the day as I ride into the sunrise, to meditate as I turn pedals round and round, to breath deeply and to become inspired.  I arrive home feeling strong and primed for my day.  This past week, I have been greeted by gray fox on my return home.  We’ve been studying one another closely and she’s been calling to me.

Dawn fox
Holed in shadows of
Chard and basil
Watching

Her strong eyes
Meet mine
Her mystique
Woos me

Wary toes
Part tall grass
As we greet
Open field

She turns
Tail erect
Steering me
Her way

Flowing
Feminine
Mystery
Calls me

Spirits of the East

Fog heavy on my body
I breathe deeply
Into the idea of morning

Stretching the life of me
To fit my skin
I offer gratitude

To Spirits of the East
Who rise
Bearing gifts
Of infinite possibility

creek dream

sweet-smelling
creek waters
seep
into fertile banks
which like a sponge
soak up
the ever-giving flow of days
days filled with leaves
afloat
in whirlpools of light
gurgling voices amidst
rock outcrops
dreams suspended

Envy

Amidst morning fog
Hummingbird lights
In treetop silence
Savoring
This restful moment
Lush green feathers
Like spring leaves
Like envy
For this breath
For this morning
For this life

Grandma's Hair

Grandma’s hair was white
And sparse
Like a thin blanket of new snow
That lay ever so gently
Atop her large forehead

It drew back from her face
Like flakes that
Magically melt away at roof’s edge
And invite you to stand
Beneath the cover
And watch the world drift by

The beauty shop
Made her curls tight and
Tame around her face
When they relaxed -
loose and unruly
It became her

She had large framed glasses
That sat comfortably on her
Jagged nose
A wholesome smile
That made you want to
Squeeze her bulging cheeks
And full life-loving laughter

Grandma was built small
But full of strength and spirit
She bedded late
And rose early
And was not a sound sleeper
She liked her coffee dark and tepid
And was fine with leftover – slightly re-warmed
And for breakfast
One egg sunny-side up

She always served me a banquet
A fine selection of tiny cereal boxes
Would stand in a row by an empty bowl
And pitcher of milk
Sides of applesauce and cottage cheese
Were standard fare
And then eggs and sausage
White toast with jelly
And orange juice

In the oak church pew
Her voice was strong and blustery
She carried herself straight and proud
Her wrinkled hands held hymnals low
For me to follow her finger with the notes

We often sat on her porch glider
On hot Sunday afternoons
And ate ice cream sandwiches
Or drank iced coca-cola
And spoke of nothing
But listened to church bells
And ladies heels
Clipping down slate sidewalks

Every January, Grandma started a new journal
The year printed in fancy white numbers
On a brown faux leather cover
She filled pages daily
With black ink and secrets
My grandma never knew 
She inspired me to write

I remember our last visit
She in her worn brown-cushion chair
A blanket across her knees
Not as sharp as always
But her smile still true
And comforting

The day I said goodbye
She handed me a 20 dollar bill
That smelled of
The musty safe in her basement
She told me to buy myself a milkshake
We laughed

That bill still resides in my car console
Sealed in a plastic bag to preserve the smell
The last memory I have
Of my grandma
Besides her hair
Laying on a down pillow
Loose and unruly

Blessed is this Moment

I and my two children have been on our backs with flu the past several days.  It hasn't all felt pleasant, but has had a sweetness to it and has brought me many gifts.  I've found myself moving slower, of course, conscious of where I expend energy and grateful for every deep breath - a practice I have intentions to continue ; ) 

My daughter fell asleep between my legs on the couch yesterday, and though tired, I found myself reveling in the comfort and simplicity of those moments.

We've played board games for hours with no one really caring whose turn it is or who wins.

The children play in the bathtub and curl up together in a sleeping bag to rest and snuggle.

Each of us has shown compassion and has cared for the others, knowing that we're all in this together.

As I've slept through many daylight hours, I've been awake at night to savor the healing light of the moon as it passed by my bedroom window.  I'm reminded that this is all part of the dance and every moment has a gift.  Blessed is this Moment . . .

This morning I sat thinking
My mind was just adrift
Missed an angel lighting on my head
With the moment’s gift

So caught was I amidst my thought
This moment passed me by
What precious gem may have been
I cannot quantify

Our focus is so crucial
To creating our life’s dreams
So bless this precious moment
It’s more sacred than it seems

The angels know our heart’s desire
And this to us endow
Blessed is this moment
Spirit’s gift is now

When gratitude’s far from my heart
And life seems full of grief
It’s time to heighten my awareness
And create a new motif

I sing blessings of the moment
Though the notes fill with a tear
I know with faithful focus
My way will soon be clear

I have filled myself with anger
Holding grudges ‘gainst a friend
Occupied my mind with thoughts
I felt would have no end

So I create awareness
That Spirit’s here to heal
Blessed is this moment
No matter what I feel

I often long for moments
Filled with beauty, peace and joy
My separation is my mind
Which I quickly unemploy

Connect I to my heart
And to my head appease
I find the joy of the moment
Comes to me with ease

I sometimes ponder life regrets
Or wish for times to come
When the angels of the moment
Are beating on their drum

Connecting me with Spirit
Fulfilling all my dreams
Blessed is this moment
No matter what it seems

Our moment’s gifts are golden
Though as such may not appear
Surprisingly, this moment’s pain
Could be but a veneer

Beneath which lies a secret
That we greet on bended knee
Blessed is this moment
For it could set you free

I’m grateful for this breath
This ray of sunshine on my face
I give gratitude for any hint
Of Spirit’s sweet embrace

Sometimes in heated moments
When my gratitude is pale
I remember all those treasures
That hid ‘neath a similar veil

So when life seems somewhat stressful
Or you find you’re in a snare
Know the angels that surround you
Are listening to your prayer

And are sending you an answer
That your next breath may contain
Blessed is this moment
It will not appear again

Moon Seed

Moon seed, nestled in rich belly soil
Seeking a place in which to uncoil
Fertile thoughts gone now allow you to flow
Wise woman’s wisdom with your stream does grow

Moon seed, sweet source of maiden fruit
Shine upon me, so my soul will take root
Illume my dreams, sweep shadows aside
Come, christen me in your crimson tide

Moon seed, your blessings so full
Drip slivers of wisdom in my heart pool
Lift spirit veils on my dry river bed
Come, let your tendrils across me spread

Knowing my harvest will soon be past
I cling to your tears as if they’re my last
Moon seed, flow top my rivers deep
And take hold, so your light I may reap

Night Rainbows

Magic prism, break the darkness
Charm those spirits of the east
Who light the morning sky
And paint the horizon with brilliance

The decorative wrap of night
Sparkles around me
Igniting inner fires that burn red and orange
And harken the sun’s illumined path

The gift of day sits unopened
While in gratitude I eclipse that inner light
Strengthening its conviction
And savoring this moment of creation

Meanwhile night tinged in moon shadows
Dances with my spirit
And the magic prism
Gifts me with night rainbows

Owl Calling

I rise in darkness to owl calling
Its message gentle but persistent
Urges me to unfold my mighty wings
And soar silently through the trees

Cloaked in darkness, I cast my vision inward
Seeing clearly my dream
Then pivot my neck to gain my bearing
On the outer
Taking inspired flight toward my destination

I leave behind all perception of custom
And glance heartward for guidance
Golden eyes gleaming and breath full