The Gift

As mentioned in previous posts I’ve been on a fairly intense journey of healing and self-discovery during the past several years. There have been times where I’ve asked the types of questions hinted at in this poem. Now, as I rise out of the valley of shadows that dominated my life for so long, I do indeed find myself able to dwell more fully in the light.

It is a glorious way of being …

The Gift

Deep in the valley

Where dark shades

Prevail I look to the

Skies where the

Feathered ones wail.

They dart through

The light as though

Blinded by hope

They don’t worry,

Nor wonder how

They’re going to

Cope. They call

Me, they call me

“Look heavenward,

See there’s the

Bright ray of hope

Shining boldly

For thee!”

They dance on a

Wing, floating high

In the sky to the

Tune of the sun

And the beat of

Their cries. They

Land for a breath

For a morsel to

Eat, then back on

The wing, flying high,

Flying fleet. No

Wincing or whining

No wondering

Why, just birds

On a wing flying

High in the

Sky. My thoughts

Linger longing

To know how they

Feel, so I climb

From this valley

To find something

Else real. I clamber

Up hillsides o’er

Rocks and through

Trees, and commune

With the living not

Lost in dis-ease. The

Sun gets much

Warmer, the wind on

My face chases out

Haunting demons so I can

Embrace what is

Good what is true

What is hope what

Is love. The gift of

The winged ones

That hover above.


Thanks for visiting.

Dorothy 🙂

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012


I see ghosts. They
Haunt me every single
Day. Drag me down a
Dark path; an old familiar
Way. Insisting that the
Past is where I need
To dwell, that the
Journey to the light is
Just another form
Of hell. “This is what
you know,” they
Whisper, “where you
Ought to be.” And I run
Screaming from their
Grasp. I want no
Part, you see.

But everyday they
Pester me, distract
Me from the
Light. Their misery
Wants my company,
To make their wrongs
Seem right. They
Say their way is
Easier; takes no
Effort; will be
Fine. But the price
To pay is far too
Steep — they want
Everything of mine.

So, everyday I
Struggle to show
Them to the
Door. Their presence
Isn’t welcome in
My attic anymore.
I’ll be no longer
Haunted by the
Pain they wish
To share, though I
Know they’ll keep
On trying since
I’m here and
They are there.


The ghosts of our past will never be faraway, but their influence on us, as we become attuned to our truth, will become less intense over time.

They may knock on the door to remind us they’re in the neighbourhood, but that doesn’t mean we have to let them in.

Just smile through the window … and wave them off. I don’t know about you, but I have better things to do than entertain a bunch of ghosts!

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2011