GARLANDS OF THE HEATH (a dance)
by Jerome Heath,
profjerryheath@hyahoo.com
"garlands instead of ashes"
Winter melt and early rain
Swells the tiny willow paws
Sticks that now will come alive
Reminders of another day
Rise from shackles of my mind
Rhythms that I dare regard
Unrelenting drum of life.
Blossoms in the wood
Garlands of the heath
Secret joys
The drum of life...
The past is a work of art.
The inner man is sculptured within.
Worked in the mind,
formed in time by my thoughts.
It is a living sculpture
changing with time,
moving, relating, speaking.
Speaking from within.
Where are the hidden valleys and lost hills,
Where jewels in secret can be found?
Where are the forgotten fields and unknown cliffs,
Where beauty unknown abounds?
Blossoms in the wood
Garlands of the heath
Voices speak from the past,
from deep within,
without real being,
but knowing my weaknesses.
This past stands over me,
Like a row of statues,
speaking stern words,
that frighten.
Wild birds soar
Garlands of the heath.
Squirrels rush
Blossoms in the wood.
Snakes slide and spiders trap
Jewels in secret.
The inner man is a faceless wall,
mysterious and startling,
staring at me,
telling my secrets.
The past stands over me,
like a wall of dread.
separating me from me,
and the little child.
Crystal sparkling sunlit rain
Wets the grass and makes it shine
Simple flowers dip and bob
Reminders of another day
Rise from shackles of my mind
Rhythms that I dare regard
Unrelenting Drum of life.
Blossoms in the wood
Garlands of the heath
Hidden beauty
Secret joys
The drum of life.
Where is the lonely wood and virgin heath,
Where hidden rhythms can be found?
Where is the untouched place and lost way,
Where we sense the drum of life?
Thankful for the mountains.
Thankful for the valleys.
Thankful for the bread.
Thankful for the wine.
Blossoms in the wood
Garlands of the heath
Dormant lights
Latent glory
Cries in my mind,
my soul.
cause storms,
where there are no storms.
Rumblings in my mind,
my soul,
cause fear,
where I need no fear.
Flames of the past burn,
deep within my mind,
separating me from me,
and the little child.
Separating me from the light.
Disturbing my being.
Creating shadows.
Painting shades of grey.
But flames in my memory,
burn away the trouble of the past;
and tear down the wall...
the wall of dread.
Thankful for the lesson.
Thankful for the wisdom.
Thankful for the time.
Let the fire of the spirit cleanse our soul.
Seed pods crack and break apart
Give their seeds to gusty winds
Specks that may start life anew
Reminders of another day
Rise from shackles of my mind
Rhythms that I dare regard
Unrelenting drum of life.
Where is the lonely wood?
Blossoms in the mind
Where is the virgin heath?
Garlands of the soul
Where is the secret place?
Inner rhythms
Where is the little chidl?
Blossoms in the wood
Garlands of the heath
Secret joys
Tender glory
Inner rhythms
The drum of life!
Wild birds soar over garlands of the heath
Garlands of the mind.
Squirrels scold by blossoms in the wood
Blossoms in the mind.
They show inner beauty
They hear hidden rhythms
They know...
Reminders of another day
Rise from shackles of my mind
Rhythms that I dare regard
I know the little child!
by Jerome Heath
profjerryheath@hyahoo.com
Background Picture by Valerie Heath