Sarah's Writings

Night Time Running in Vancouver Rain

Granville Island. Huddled runners in a community centre. Slow deliberate departure.

First blasts of weary work worn muscles. Carry grumbling minds. Collective insanity rules as no one mentions being shot at by the rain.

Clinging to conversation Mundane minutiae of Daily wars lost and battles done.

Something breaks cover Through the sleet. Words stretch Heartfelt truths are whispered in a moving confessional Friendship watches the passing Of life’s relay baton.

A sheer ice coldness breathes deep and feeds the fire within. The mind escapes layers of soaken skin. Sheer alive freedom Surrenders to the purest Joy!


I long to hear your thoughts. Few words echo like an electric heartbeat Too rarely can I feel your pulse. No longer do I know your voice in the energy This taught tightness could hold forever Or slip in one instant. Should I risk breaking it With one sharp tap? Can I see enough is in there? Old adoration is visibly staling The past vision of me is all you hold Stall for time. That which I carry Must flow yet and linger still Show me a way to shine Now for you my light has faded. Take this thought I know not what to do with it I hate that you have made me hand it to you mute You will twist the top off this choice with your strength I can only take it back open.

The art of living

Something snapped inside not long ago. I asked for this moment when I would stand here With lingering intoxification Writing this poem on the back of my weekend grocery list. For too long have I longed to dance. The universe heard my call And answered

One drink with a friend – an expected evening of quiet contemplation Another joined - who brought another Each person bringing new ideas. Instant new connections formed for a reason. I feel what should not yet have left Young again. I am suddenly surrounded by the full flow of life’s abundance. I have the true privileged VIP access to the heartbeat of life. Exclusive space to dance and feel the rhythm of my own song.

Silly giddiness Sitting on a friend’s Gastown balcony. Invited to use the paints: “Put what you want over this used canvas. Make something different from this moment.” How human to need a picture to keep a memory of the new. I drank in the all the invitations of the evening. I loved the richness of the view.

Thank you to those who said don’t long to do - just do Don’t wait to be perfect - just be Thank you to those who have unveiled the art of my life And to the one who tried to love me while I struggled to create it.

I am returning My own landscape has been mixed, moved and repainted.

Faith in my union at home is Still Eternal


Words echo like electric heartbeats. I can feel your pulse. I hear your voice in the energy. I have come to know me. We can flow yet.

Edited Sun, Dec 16, 2007 12:01 AM

Replies to this Topic


Our garden lies neglected. The delicate balance of natural and landscaped appeal Was long ago broken.

Will you take up a spade with me and dig? Or do you want to continue to thrash through the undergrowth To try to tear your skin on the overgrown branches, To prove to me how much.

How much I have neglected to pull out the weeds, To tend to the seedlings in the delicate Womanly way You so used to admire.

How far have you come To save the soil Within which there still lies new growth? I will stay up late And make you mince pies Though the first crop may be burnt. Please stop and know Few things in life form quite as expected

On time.

You bought me flowers today. Winter thoughts in lush green and white, An embrace of deep red roses. We can grow our own if we learn to love the thorns.


Cool breeze,

deep pool,

warm darkness.

You were all

bear -

fishing for salmon

in the stars.




Above a Wintry Mount St. Helens

Serene calm.

Drifts of snow

- covered innocence.


White hot wonder.

Frozen volcano.



beauty arrived

in a dance of cloud

and steam risen vapor wisps

- an inner wild fire

of creation.


May - Life - Be

Sweet cheery blossom life.

Wide open brightness.

The bloom.

The space inside

of what is.

Let the darkness be as dark

As it needs to.

As past I,

Through me,

Is the world.

It will always be


The beauty of

Each private dawn.

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