How The Soul Moves (and more poems)

How the soul moves

It must be a tricky business
it lingers, hovers stealthily
an invisible silence
a swift inhabitation
the soul awaits
to startle the body

In wordless voice
it moves from room to room
turning lights on
spends a lifetime
ever longing
to be heard

In other countries

Somewhere in a dream
in other countries, never mapped, a man was speaking
though I did not understand, there was never any plan
and I listened to the wind and rain upon the trees.
With no church bells to ring, and birds were the chorus
There in the forest, a silent steeple stood standing on its own
became a wild bird’s home, wrapped in thorny vines
a crown that stained, red berries bled upon my hands.
Mary was there too, she was looking through
a broken window pane, whispering my name
and too, the forest sang, bathing me in love
and with the birds I flew, silently into
a deeper dream, until I woke at dawn
to fragrant flowers on the lawn
remembering such heaven


Winter’s unsteady weather
cold, cold, hot desert
on this walkabout with severe angles of sun
icy mornings drip into the sweat of day
the impasse of giant stones, the gods have laid
to stop or climb another way
egos travel irretrievable, sink into what is real
here we scale thorny towers of denial
revealed, peeled in layers – to cry, to smile
meanwhile, awakened from
the sleep of our amnesia

By CA Guilfoyle

Author of short stories and poetry, with work published on a variety of blogs and writing websites. When not staring at the sunlight through forest vine maples or looking at the intricacies of a cactus flower, she is pondering such things.

One reply on “How The Soul Moves (and more poems)”

nice cindy, I like. makes me ponder what might come out of your head while viewing the inside of my. thanks for sharing.

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