The Sacred Gift

 

Your gift begins on airy wings, over a diamond sea.

The Emerald Isle beckons you, steeped in mystery.

Setting down on hallowed ground, you’re welcomed to this land

With bright blue eyes and gentle words, your guide warmly takes your hand.

 

Through timeless oaks of Coen Y Brenin, which Merlin once called home,

You sense the magic lingering and feel an urge to roam.

Up in the sky, once again, Stonehenge comes in sight

Your guide informs you quietly of its mystery and plight.

 

Across the choppy Channel, where boats bob in the waves

The coast of Normandy looms large and you detect the hidden graves.

The Eiffel Tower pricks the sky as you fly a joyous circuit.

The winding Seine then calls to you and all Paris is moonlit.

 

Snow-capped Alps are no obstruction as you wing o’er silent peaks.

And the Riviera warms your soul as the Sea flaunts foamy streaks.

Through Tuscany and Florence with their maze of wineries,

You set down softly and enjoy a glass, amidst the warm spring breeze.

 

Africa’s Serengeti is a place you’ve never been

And down below, zebras graze in a sheltered lush ravine.

Nomads walk this timeless land in harmony with nature.

Camels plod an unseen path with their load of myrrh.

 

The sand is hot in the Valley of Kings and a playful sphinx smiles at you.

And alongside golden pyramids, the Nile’s painted blue.

Across the Red and Dead Seas, you guide points out key sites.

The beauty overwhelms you as you see Jerusalem’s lights.

 

Istanbul the ancient is but a passing scene

And travelers on the old Silk Road cause your mind to dream.

China’s Great Wall looms up large and you marvel at its splendor,

And the peaceful Torii Gates of Japan rouse feelings that are tender.

 

Wondrous peace envelopes you as your guide squeezes a hand.

A single tear of joy is shed and he whispers, “I understand.”

Alaska’s rugged country flashes by with its great beauty.

You whisk down the continent’s west coast, toward lands of mystery.

 

The Andes rise from puffy clouds – perhaps the Mayan Heaven?

And ruins of that long-dead race capture your attention.

The elder gods of Easter Island maintain their silent watch

And Macchu Picchu, once lost to time, lies in a bright green swatch.

 

 

 

Your guide informs you there’s one last thing that’s imperative you see.

And then you’re in the star-filled sky, on heaven’s balcony.

Below a gleaming blue sphere rotates to catch the sun.

You can almost see Ra’s chariot and night is on the run.

 

A sense of peace and reverence hold you gently in their grasp.

Your guide’s next words are shocking and you can’t suppress a gasp.

Down below, the silent Earth rotates and bears as witness.

And the true identity of your guide, to you, he does confess.

 

“This beauty is My gift to you, with its mountains, lakes and life.

You’re honoured Me, My child, even through your strife.

You’ve treated friends as family and strangers as a friend.

It may not seem that your love’s returned but on this you can depend.

 

“My eyes see all and, to Me, your soul is beautiful.

The sites that we’ve explored this night are but small parts of the whole.

In the coming times of earthly change, your gentle soul is needed

To guide the way and share your love to the souls that I have seeded.

 

“Don’t ever falter to lend a hand, if you sense the need within.

For it is My quiet voice that speaks and great love to you I send.

Along the way you may despair, for some things you can’t evade.

Just clasp this poem close to your heart and remember all I’ve made.”

 

The sun’s bright light peeks inside as it crests the eastern sky.

And above the distant snow-capped peaks, you hear a joyous bird’s sweet cry.

You crack open sleepy eyelids and see you’re home in bed

And wonder was it just a dream and turn a wary head.

 

A single rose in full bloom lays silent on your pillow.

You pick it up in wonder and walk towards your window.

You feel the magic in the rustling leaves, under clouds of downy fleece.

This serenity is now your own, Mom, God’s loving gift of peace.

 

 

 

While I will take some credit for this poem, I never write alone. One important aspect, any time I write, is that I always offer myself as a willing conduit if there is a message to be relayed. The message contained in this poem was for my friend's mom, who I do call mom. She's a feisty little 70 year old that underwent major surgery. I was able to visit her for about a minute on Wednesday evening, after missing a succession of buses and spending at least an hour in the cold waiting for each. I have also included her in my prayers and would like to think they had an effect...the day after dropping this poem off to her, my friend called, very excited, and said she was up and about using the washroom on her own, eating solid food and asking for more! This is after barely being able to move the three days previous. The comical aspect is that she still doesn't fully understand the poem...yet. I have included a request to the God and Goddess that she does, in time, and I have NO doubt she will.

Her name is Janice and I would be extremely grateful if you could remember her in your prayers.

 

Wow, this is a fabulous poem. I feel as if I've journeyed around the world and saw it from great heights. You definitely have a gift for writing with motion and visualization. I'm amazed that it only took an hour to write. I'm sure your friend's Mom and your friend treasure the love and sentiments your poem inspires and the heart you put into writing it.

~applause~
Well done, you truly are a special friend!

There's only one thing I can say, Dee, my friend...