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Call of Oblivion
Pieces of me fly off to the aetherswhere my heart has always livednever to be found again for they have their own lives nowmaking the best of fragmentation.The magic of a soul that doesn’t want to be whole is the seeds the pieces becomedispersed across the universeto grow worlds that makefor an exquisite fit. Each… Continue reading
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Inevitable Return: a poem for Imbolc
Where did my breath go when I held it so long in the silence, when I was stunned by exquisite suffering, marveling at all the colors of pain? When I was so frozen that I could almost touch the crystalline void that seems to beckon to fingertips with shimmering darkness when we so desperately yearn… Continue reading
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A Greater Heart
I. It’s easy to have no regrets when you never look back. Avoiding photographs and sunshine. Keeping the albums closed. One lives for the future instead of the past. Always seeking to forsake the now, But accidents happen and the dusty old box is found in the attic of forgetting, right where Pandora left it,… Continue reading
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The Silent Song
I had dreams bigger than my eyes when I was young, and my eyes were always bigger than my heart. Wonder for fuel, I reached for distant planets in my mind and found songs on the wind instead. I sang til my throat was raw in hopes that they would hear me, even through… Continue reading
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Cosmic Sailor
You are an entire universe And so is your vision. You live in the expanse Of the cosmos and more, The place from which All was born. The demands others make Are like imposed funnels For tunnels you cannot Begin to fit through. Sometimes you try And it hurts Like the foot binding Of a… Continue reading
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The Seeker
Don’t mind me, I’m just surrendering being broken calling back all the fragments of me throughout space and time, all the pieces that got lost somewhere, stuck in shock, orphans in stasis, hungry for a mother in perpetual wonder of where they belong. I felt their search for millenia and even made it part of… Continue reading
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Dying to See
Vultures pick the wounds clean. Clarity comes through whispering trees. I am still, and listening. Copyright © 2018, Sheyorah Aossi Art: Stillness by Joyce Huntington. Continue reading
About Me
I wrote my first story when I was a wee girl of three, followed by my first poem when I was eight. I’ve been writing ever since as a way to cope with life. This practice evolved with learning in both structured settings and through the practice, itself. In my own healing crisis, I found a process I affectionately refer to as Poetic Alchemy. Now on the journey of getting my life back, I do this not only for myself but for you.
Creature Speak 