Mirrors of my Soul Read online

  Mirrors

  of my

  Soul

  A Collection of

  Life’s Poetry

  ELLEN ALBAN

  © Copyright 2005 Ellen Alban.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval

  system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,

  recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

  Note for Librarians: a cataloguing record for this book that includes Dewey Decimal

  Classification and US Library of Congress numbers is available from the Library and

  Archives of Canada. The complete cataloguing record can be obtained from their online

  database at:

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  ISBN 1-4120-4375-1

  This book is printed on acid free paper.

  Cover Design and Page Layout by Bonnie Toews

  Edited by Ellen Beck

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  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

  Contents

  INTRODUCTION

  REFLECTIONS ON THE SOUL

  REFLECTIONS ON MIDDLE AGE

  REFLECTIONS ON ANIMALS

  REFLECTIONS ON ILLNESS

  REFLECTIONS ON REFLECTIONS

  REFLECTIONS ON REVELATIONS

  REFLECTIONS ON NATURE

  REFLECTIONS ON RELATIONSHIPS

  REFLECTIONS ON WHIMSY

  REFLECTIONS ON LIFE

  ABOUT THE POET

  Prayer for the Millennium

  To all the dear women assembled here tonight

  My hope is that my prayer is a candle burning bright

  To simply wish for health, happiness and peace

  Is certainly part of my prayer

  But we all need much more

  So that with true hearts and souls

  We will the new millennium explore

  Our strength in adversity

  Open arms to the needy

  Loving ourselves richly

  As we all deserve

  Loving others with sincerity

  As is their need

  Reaching out to ease pain

  Healing ancient rifts

  Teaching our children and grandchildren

  The priceless value of commitment

  Learning to accept the inevitability of change

  Aging gracefully with acceptance and wisdom

  Imparting our knowledge to those willing to learn

  Inspiring others through stories of our life experience

  When called bearing the inevitable with grace

  Leaving our legacy of love

  To those dear ones who remain

  These, my dear ladies, are my prayers for the Millennium.

  ELLEN ALBAN

  Dedication

  This collection of life’s poetry

  is dedicated to my

  dear family and friends,

  and to all who are

  living with

  Parkinson’s Disease

  Introduction

  Seven years ago I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. I

  had been living on overdrive for many years, as had so

  many newly “liberated” women of the late sixties. I had a

  teaching position at a local high school and a young family.

  Those years were busy, but nothing like what would later

  transpire.

  At age thirty-three, I became responsible for helping three

  elderly members of my family. Over the next fifteen years,

  my grandmother, my mother and my stepmother all needed

  me to assist them in many ways. By the time I reached

  forty-eight, they had all passed on. It seemed as if I would

  now have a modicum of spare time. But almost

  immediately a new challenge presented itself.

  On a weekend getaway, our friend Earl Dobkin, a family

  physician in Toronto, noticed a slight tremor in my right

  hand. He suggested to my husband that I see a neurologist

  as soon as possible. Could this happen to me at what

  seemed to be such a young age? Yes, of course it could.

  And it did. I accepted the news calmly. After all, I had been

  through so much already. I would have to deal with this

  new challenge one day at a time. Eight years later, that is

  exactly what I am still doing.

  At the time of my diagnosis, I realized that I would have to

  de-stress my life as expeditiously as possible and face the

  fact that my teaching days were numbered. In February

  1996, I took a leave of absence for six weeks, thinking that

  I might rest and soon return. But I never have.

  Instead, I resolved to begin looking at my life in a different

  way and to try things I previously thought were impossible.

  I began with beading necklaces, bracelets and eyeglass

  chains, and then tried my hand at watercolor, a medium

  that doesn’t seem to care if the painter’s brush is being held

  by a tremoring hand. Each hobby was so enjoyable that I

  found myself immersed for days at a time in one and then

  the other. I recommend each of these to all who wish to

  awaken their artistic side. But there was much more to

  come.

  One day I decided to purchase a pretty spiral notebook and

  begin to write a journal. Instead of writing about my days, I

  began to write poems, poems and still more poems. Over

  the next three months, I filled six spiral notebooks with

  many poems that described my life, my experiences and my

  feelings.

  It became imperative to learn how to use the computer, and

  although I am far from being an expert, I use my computer

  daily.

  Poems began accumulating at an astounding rate. No

  subject was off limits. From talking pasta pots to headless

  mannequins, to ladies who lunch, anything was and is

  possible in my work.

  The more I write, the more I become a student of life and

  the human condition. With each experience I feel dee
ply,

  inhale the positives and expunge the negatives. In all, I

  know that I am continuously evolving and I take great joy

  in that knowledge.

  Why does someone like me decide to reveal her thoughts,

  feelings and viewpoint to the world? Perhaps to make

  others think about their own vision, to leave a legacy for

  my friends and family, or even to inspire others to think

  that they, too, are capable of much more than they can

  imagine. Or perhaps this desire has always been buried so

  deeply that it took these many years to discover and take

  the risk of exposing my word paintings to the scrutiny of

  other eyes, hearts and minds.

  I would like to thank everyone who helped and encouraged

  me in my endeavor. My friends, my family, and most

  especially Bonnie Toews and Susan Pearl, who made me

  feel that I could inspire others, and that I should do so.

  Sections of this book are divided into themes as reflections

  of the soul on various topics of relevance to understanding

  nature, life, people, relationships, and the nature of the

  creative process. Did I ever believe that I could write these

  words? No. But with Bonnie’s inspiration, ‘all is possible’

  became a mantra for my life.

  Thank you everyone, for taking the time to read, to reflect,

  to remember and to rejoice in the knowledge that we are

  not alone on our journey through life, but are accompanied

  by challenge, struggle and hopefully triumph.

  To poetry and to Life!

  ELLEN

  REFLECTIONS

  ON

  THE SOUL

  Soul Connection

  My soul is a mystery masked inside

  I know it exists but it loves to hide

  It only appears when I sleep or rest

  When are my soul and I

  Going to discuss for us what’s best?

  Perhaps I must wait patiently

  Surrender to the powers that be

  In hopes that someday

  My soul and I will be as one

  For then we will fly!

  Soul Food

  Powerful rhythms, piano, drums

  Strings, create a magical hum

  Brass and percussion enhance the mix

  Deep emotions themselves affix

  The music dances without repose

  Galloping through treble and bass

  Like a wild horse riding the wind

  Racing madly to a triumphant finale

  Instruments meld in their ultimate union

  Listeners enraptured

  The audience sighs—

  Silence after exquisite highs

  Hands meet, pleasures abound

  All rise, applaud this musical round

  Earth and Soul Motion

  Waves breaking on the sand

  In, out, back, forth

  Phases of night and day

  Full, half, slender moon

  Sunrise, sunset, twilight, darkness

  Feelings in the human heart

  Crash against the fragile soul

  With bitter, tender, cosmic reality

  Imagining, creating, celebrating

  Destroying, mourning, rebuilding

  The Prayer Circle

  Twenty-two loving women

  Write a special prayer

  For the Millennium

  In a circle prayers are read

  Put into the Tibetan bowl

  Chants of God and love

  Fervently sung

  Light, love and positive energy

  Pervade this place

  Tears are shed

  Hearts are lifted

  Bonds are created

  Soul Power

  I am the mistress of my soul

  I play different parts in my role

  Sometimes sweet, occasionally sour

  Often witty, rarely dour

  No one can live my life for me

  No one discerns what I see

  No one lives inside my brain

  No one knows my deepest pain

  No one understands if I say

  “I don’t really feel like that today”

  My thoughts belong only to me

  Therein lays their exclusivity

  Soul Garden

  The narrow fieldstone path

  Leads into the enchanted garden

  Of my peaceful being

  Each natural formation

  Creates a unique design

  From one stone to the next I tread

  Carefully, lightly, consciously

  For this magical garden must be savored

  By all my heightened senses

  But on the stones, silent witnesses to eternity

  Nothing dares to grow

  Only faded gray hues exist

  Surrounded by nature’s brushed floral landscape

  Sparkling in the early morning mist

  Where are the abundant feeders, the white gazebos?

  Where are the twenty faithful monarchs?

  When will they ever appear?

  Ghosts

  Ghosts of the past

  Inhabit us all

  In character, emotions

  Talent and faults

  In speech, voice

  Language and style

  But these phantoms cannot replicate

  A bygone soul’s existence

  The past creates the present

  And for that we give thanks and prayer

  The Silence Within

  Silence bombards acute ears

  Sit, contemplate, and excavate

  The innermost regions

  Transcend the scrub

  Unearth the essence

  Buried in the core of humanity

  Music of the Spirit

  Born from gentle notes of the harp

  Peaceful chords of the guitar

  The fragile spirit is summoned

  A world where music is food, air, and water

  To choked parched souls

  A world where peace wields absolute power

  And friendly clouds float

  An azure sky

  Where benevolent sunbeams heal with musical rays

  Ephemeral Mist

  An old man bends forward

  To sit in his favorite rocking chair

  Mist settles on the damp earth

  Embracing the ground

  Stretching above the evergreens

  Shrouding earth and all its beings

  With its mysterious opaque veil

  An obscure yet wondrous sight

  For aging, awestruck eyes

  The long, cool night

  Creeps into its hiding place

  Making room for daylight

  The ephemeral mist embraces earth

  Vanishing in the land

  Alive with its simple natural tones

  Part of the world

  He thinks he understands

  Revived Souls

  Death lurks

  Amidst the pristine beauty

  Of a winter’s day

  Souls fractured, legs broken

  Human and beast

  Tormented and maimed

  Life perseveres

  Amidst horror, pain

  Blood, disfigurement, loss

  Redemption

  In the endless space of Montana

  Hearts rejuvenated

  Soul mate and kindred spirit

  Greatness

  The greatness of humility is by all admired

  The modesty of brilliance one never tires

  The kindness and generosity of simple souls

  Fill the heart with wonder and represent new g
oals

  The beauty of silence is like a woman’s lovely face

  But when words destroy its mystique

  Secrets are erased

  An invisible wall between people

  The height of ugliness

  Breaking down human barriers

  Is possible only when love and kindness

  Are honestly expressed

  Heaven’s Honour

  When families are bereft

  From a mother’s passing

  Shock and abandonment

  Quickly surface

  If the mother of herself

  Has generously given

  The loss is that much

  Greater to bear

  Where to find comfort?

  Imagining our mothers

  In God’s special celestial heaven

  Reserved for those who, while on earth

  Have truly sacrificed

  Indeed a special group

  God knows their generosity to others

  Their unfailing support

  Dear Families,

  Know that God takes extra care of mothers

  In his heavenly space and prayers

  REFLECTIONS

  ON

  MIDDLE AGE

  Middle Aged and Moving

  Dyed hair, a tremor, and laugh lines

  Accompany her on her daily visit

  To the dance studio

  Where a huge mirror reflects her every move

  Some bleary-eyed witnesses notice nothing

  Except their coffee cups in their firm grasps

  Others stroll leisurely in and out

  Lost in early morning thoughts and plans

  A few take notice of the running shoe dancer

  And slyly glance at the scene

  Is she a ballerina ‘wanna be’? A Tai Chi refugee?

  A chacha-tango-waltzer devotee?

  Most cannot understand her compulsion

  At the barre in front of the mirror

  Enveloped in her own world

  The inner child is bursting with pride

  Changing Times

  About twenty years ago we moved in

  With a desire for order our only sin

  Now we two inhabit so many spaces

  Filled with memories and aging faces

  Along the way we found treasures for décor

  Were given others, acquired more and more

  One day we looked around with great surprise

  Our simple home had assumed a new disguise

  For over the years we had collected with pride

  Much more than our first gifts as groom and bride

  Our abode was now pleading for some simplicity

  After thirty-three years there was no room to breathe