Crow Child 

Obsidian wings encircle my breath

as they caw and call and swoop over my bed,

brushing my brow with their feathers,

the color of deep night gleaming blue in a slice of the moon.

They are my tribe, my father’s and mine,

and together we rise to the place in between.

Here they tell me stories and sing songs and we laugh        our crazy laugh, his laugh.

Time is a whirling dervish here and trying to hold on will always make me  fall.

So I rest my head against a bright black wing and catch a glimpse in the glint of an eye.

We rise again to the dawn.

                                                                                   Sheila Gibson Helme © 2010

 Crow Child has been chosen  for publication in Poetry While You Wait a project of the Pikes Peak Poet Laureate

The Visitor

In the meadow behind the barn I laid down      

  my face among the tender blades and filaments of light

  singing softly to myself.

Emerald robes ruffling in the breeze

  you sat silently by

  listening to my thoughts

You touched my cheek

   like it was a gem too precious for hands

   and you were gone through the dark trees, trailing light.

There were others who came too,

  to calm my soul

  and stretch my dreams.

They could make me laugh and sing out loud

  and we danced,

  so many times we danced.

Today, I found you again,

  stumbling over your robes on my way to feed the chickens.

You sit beside me now

   watching me breathe

   singing softly to yourself...

   a touch of my cheek

   and I am home.

Sheila Gibson Helme © 2011

             no, i don’t twitter…

the tiny ones in the apple tree twitter

 and their fat black cousins caw

in the branches that hum and buzz with wild music

…and they let me be.

be among the bright new blades and falling blossoms,

the silken ears of red dogs,

and the whispering wind.

let me be

and here—i am

sheila beth helme

©2009

Prayer to the Divine Mother

Beloved Mother of my soul,

you cradled me in your darkness

 in the tender folds of your belly, your crimson deep.

There I grew in the beauty of your care until you birthed me into the light of this world.

 As I grew you

guided me over each hurdle, through each hardship, your voice a soft and tender song in my heart.

 I learned my way-- I realized my gifts-- and found the courage to become a woman awakened.

And on those days when I longed for you to open up and swallow me into you again,

you sent me a purple sunset, a morning breeze, the tender touch of a hand,  a glimpse of the beauties of this world--

to help me stand tall and move forward.

Now I stand before you ready to enter into my wisdom, the years of my power and grace, and I am not afraid.

I am the woman you created in the black night and celebrated in the golden sun and as I begin each new day I feel your presence more and more...the veils are lifting…and you are calling to me to be who I am.

I am grateful for the fullness of your being, your beauty, your bounty--

your endless depths, your ecstatic heights,

your myriad of colors and textures and touches.

Divine Mother, I am your vessel,

a glimmer of you reflected in the eye of the world.

Sheila Beth Helme

© 2008

Gaze into your skin

Dwell in the swell of your belly…there lives the sacred truth.

Sing songs to the sky and dance dervishes in the dirt.

Let the sunrise swallow you whole,

Allow midnight to wrap you in a billion stars.

Watch the wild creatures cavort.

Mirror the flow of the river

And walk tall among the trees.

Wallow in this wet, wild world and wait…

A sacred hand will caress you.

Sit in silence and breathe her in,

breathe her in.

Sheila Gibson Helme

© 2009

I stand alone

 where morning crests over the mountain,

layered light on deepest blue.

In this moment the beauty of the stars,

 the bounty of the earth are mine.

I am everything I ever was,

 everything I'll ever know.

sheila beth helme  (C) 1992

 dearg

(gehrig)

regal red wonder

soul of a celtic king

you have become the castle keep

a  safe place for all the unspoken affection

 I have for myself and my world-

all the soft words I dare not say

to all the sad people

I pass each day

I whisper instead to your silken ears

and nuzzle your noble neck

and filled with that sweetness

you sing –

and we dance.

©2009

sheila beth helme