Poetry

Gaia

In the quiet
By this northern lake
Gaia sings to me
And I am restored
Here, where Earth predominates
Even city folk settle in and find
Their secret sound
Gaia rejects no one,
No concept or vision
She collaborates with infinite generosity
She is a tolerant and generous Mother
Who lays her vast resources at our feet

She patiently accepts our ubiquitous destruction
Due to modern minds fretfully torn
From the wisdom whispered in our bodies
She waits for our return
Calling us home with
Sunsets that explode crimson and purple over evening skies
And lavish waterfalls that spill gloriously through
Mountain fissures
Finally, one day, a tiny frog slumbering
Sweetly in a pedal of a favorite rose
Stops us,

Need for penance
She just slips her verdant mantle
Around our weary souls
And silently re-weaves meaning into
Our careless dreams and aspirations
She resuscitates our stunned hearts
With forest sweet breath
Until our frantic minds grow quite
And we slide deep                                                                             
Into the guileless bliss
Of the embodied life.
Greta Bro 2004
Copyright Gaia's Breath Publishing

Night Migration 

I cannot believe that
I have never heard
Canadian geese
migrating at night...
flying over my house,
as they have,
these past three eves
honking
back and forth
supporting each other
as they embark on their
unrelenting flight
across land and sea
surely, I have heard this before...
then the thought dawns...
isn't humanity also journeying through the dark
seeking softer terrain
following the soul's push forward
to a destination unknown,
yet irresistibly alluring
some of us well on our way
boldly migrating
away from this season of rapacious greed
toward the warm shores of compassion
Greta Bro
October 10, 2011
Copyright 2011

Solstice Planting

In the cycle of early winter
When night yawns wide
And the membrane between worlds
Grows porous and thin
Kernels of inspiration
Release from holy sources and
Seek the voluptuous folds
Of fertile imagination

Fleeting moments of clarity
Mark this sacred event
Where Heaven and Earth unite
Ancient passageways unlock and align
Granting access to subterranean growing fields
Far below the frost line of survival mind

Here tucked safely away from doubts and chatter
Vision swells and germinates into blueprints of knowing
Highways of instruction so powerful that in time
They thrust the individual irreversibly
And plant her feet steadfastly
On the road to the new world.
Greta Bro

Copyright 2003

Out to Sea

You head out to sea because now,
you have no choice.
Storms blow and rage,
bouncing your craft around
until everything shatters,
and you become a nameless sailor,
surrendered to the pull
of the smooth undercurrents
that guide you far from the familiar shore.

Months pass.
you drift and doubt
and worry that there is still,
no land in sight.
Just miles of sea outstretched before you.
You have taken little with you,
only the barest of vessels
can navigate these waters.
Sails and rudders interfere.

You have become nameless
to find more truth.
Friends and family cannot help you on this voyage.
The uttered word sounds wrong.
Letters float in scattered phrases around you.
Meaningless locutions
litter the ground.
Only silence speaks clearly now.

Something has taken you far from home.
A hidden Self hums mystic chords
until one night, lips cracked and skin blistered from
too much exposure to the elements.
You rest in deep surrender, peaceful, trusting and unafraid.
And in the twinkling hours before daylight,
awakened by the awesome sound,
you clearly hear
the first syllable of your new name.
Greta Bro
Copyright 2004