Healing and growth through intuitive art
The bird wants to fly
On her own
She slowly disconnects
From where she stands
Wanting to fly
Takes its energy
From the sun
And it is light
Hesitation
To leave the earth
Is from the fear
And it is heavy
For many years
It seemed that
She has flown
And stayed
It took a lifetime
To slowly be
More airborne
Than earthbound
One
Lifetime
Which is
No time at all.
Birds can fly
They are not afraid of heights
A bough
Is a home for them
Sometimes they would fight
for a good one
Then they’d sleep
Almost standing
Birds start to sing
Even before the sun arrives
Birds are soft
And hard
And I
What is hard and what is soft
In me?
What am I afraid of?
What will my dreams be like
If I have to keep my balance
At night?
Will I sing
In the morning?
When I was very young, there were geckos on the screens of the windows in my room, hunting flies and moths. And beyond the screen birds were standing on the windowsills. Then they would fly to the trees that surrounded the house.
In the evenings many birds would fight for the good boughs, making a huge noise. Then they’d settle down and sleep, sitting on their folded legs that held on to the thin branches. They did not have homework to do. I loved their boldness as they peeked into my room, with the excitement of having just flown still alive in them.
Today, when I close my eyes and imagine what a good life is for me, I see myself flying above the landscape, almost like the birds, but I flap less with my hands. I just have to think forward and I fly. And when I settle on a bough, at the top of the tallest tree, I do not shout. There is nothing to fight for. The world comes to me.
The lines say don’t
Please do not come here
We will fight against you
The wine says full
Says wet
Says heavy
The green says upward
Home and trees
The white says open
Free and fly
All things are watching me
But the bird is eying endlessness
With no intention.
She wants to fly up and up ad far
The bird is infinite
She wants to fly up and up and far
But tears attach her to the sea of sorrow
Her ideas limit her
The rock of pain
Threaten to block her
The sea is wide
The angels watch and cannot interfere
Their heart cries out
Come, come, sweet bird
You can
And what’s the source of power?
It’s in the knowing
That her mind
navigates
Her thinking
Moves her
Think flying on
Think delighting in the life on earth
Think love given and received
And if one day
All your ideas will cease
Where will you find yourself?
Sweet bird
Where will you be?
And aren’t you already there
Right now?
Mountains and valleys dance
The mountains have wings
Just here now they fly
They flow
The creek
And the banks
Dance
Rocks green and river
Go light
And up in the air
Fly to nowhere really
Just here now
Mountains
With little towns on top of them
Dance.
Resistance sometimes comes in sweetly and you don’t even know it is resistance.
Backing up
Graceful, with no legs, he stands in front of me and says
Yes, I am very interested in you
Hey wait a second, I think
Where are the decisions made?
Under my hat indeed
And behind my big nose
I look at him again
He is a cut winged angel
Tickling the sky when he tries to fly
Look at the flying orbs I tell him, to make him angry
And I start backing up
Phew!
intuitiveflow 