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The page for my poems, short stories and anything else I feel like writing about
Homecoming
July 2022
The earth beneath my feet
Shimmers and shivers at their touch.
She has been waiting for so long,
Too long,
For my return.
For my heart to touch her heart once more,
For my soul to touch her soul.
For that which has for lifetimes been forgotten
To be remembered.
Mother, I remember.
Mother, I am coming home.
My flesh hungers for your embrace,
My roots, gossamer strands of glittering silver,
Sink beneath your skin.
Threads of starlight in the warm, welcoming darkness of your womb.
Mother, I hear your song.
It echoes in the stones and seas,
And whispers through the forests.
Dancing in the sunlight
And weaving its melody into the velvet black night.
Mother, I am home.
© D K Henderson, 2022
Your Wild Soul
Jan 2022
My darling, I am your Wild Soul. I am the wholeness of you, the wholeness that came from Source into your physical body. I came knowing the magnificence that we are and the potential of all we could be. I am your dreams and your desires. I am the voice that whispers to you in the silence, calling you to adventures, new experiences. Calling you to joy, and love.
When you were a baby, I was all that you knew of yourself. I was free and expressed in all that you did, for you had no concept of being anything else. You had not then learned to push me away or see me as the part of you that had to be tamed and controlled. The more you grew, the more you resisted me, denied me and shut me away. You learned that I was unrealistic, bad, dangerous even. You listened to those who, in their love for your and their desire to keep you safe, taught you how you should be. How you should look, how you should act, how you should speak. How you should think. You were taught to conform and to follow the rules. You absorbed the fears and restrictive beliefs of those who surrounded you – family, friends, society – and you learned to behave according to those fears and beliefs.
And yet... And yet. Though you did as you were told, I could not be silenced. If, on the surface, you obeyed, inside you rebelled. You heard the voice of your Wild Soul, my voice, echoing through your flesh and your bones, unsilenced and unsilenceable, calling you to freedom. You listened, and each time you listened I became stronger, pulling you back to me. Little by little you shed the fears and beliefs that had kept you from yourself, from me, your Wild Soul, and from your freedom. With every step you took towards me, you breathed more deeply. With every step that followed your soul’s longings fearlessly, your power grew. With every step into your Wild Soul Life, you shone a light for others to follow.’
© D K Henderson, 2018
Samhain
Oct 2021
Beyond your warm and cosy home
Where pumpkins glow and children squeal with joyful fright
Storm clouds chase across the evening sky
Heralding the Samhain night.
Winter’s icy fingers are a promise in the wind.
The hounds of autumn howl their ghostly call into the dark
And leaves of amber, blood crimson and gold
Rattle like dry bones on now lifeless boughs.
Tonight the unseen world is not so far away,
Whispering at your windows and tiptoeing through your door.
Who watches from the shadows, invisible yet starkly felt
In the flicker of a cloak around the doorpost
Or the half-imagined touch of a chill hand?
Tonight, they come to visit,
Those who have left this world, and those who have never lived in it.
But do not rush to bolt the door and bar the windows.
Welcome them instead with open hearts.
Invite them to your table
With fond remembrances for those who have passed across the veil.
Set a place for them, bring them wine.
Speak to them with love,
To those who you have known and those who you have not.
Share with them your hopes and dreams,
Your fears and doubts and troubles,
That they may drop their wisdom to you as you sleep.
And when the hour arrives when the candles have burned their last,
Say farewell and invite your visitors to return
On the night that the shadowy veil once more thins
And two worlds meet as one.
© D K Henderson, 2021