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    Gabriel’s Light: Spiritual Poetic Musings
    Gabriel’s Light: Spiritual Poetic Musings
    Gabriel’s Light: Spiritual Poetic Musings
    Ebook306 pages1 hour

    Gabriel’s Light: Spiritual Poetic Musings

    By BJ Feeney

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    I created this book to recognize and counteract all the stress and angst in the world today. We must be mindful of old, protective, subconscious habits that keep us blocked and stagnant. We have an inherent need to find our joy, give it life, and propel it back into the universe, giving a cadence to our purposes here on Earth. In order for mankind to evolve, we need to learn how to turn to our higher selves residing within. It is my intention that you will find yourselves between the lines written for your perusal – not only find your true selves, but act upon what you perceive, giving back to the universal consciousness. I ask of you, who would listen to yourselves, “How will you serve? How will you choose to transport your light into the world?”
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBalboa Press
    Release dateDec 1, 2018
    ISBN9781982212490
    Gabriel’s Light: Spiritual Poetic Musings
    Author

    BJ Feeney

    BJ Feeney currently resides in a western suburb of Boston, Massachusetts with her husband, Marty. A retired educator, she recalls years of working with her students and peers with a great deal of fondness. BJ’s BS in Education and MS in Education allowed her to serve as a reading/writing consultant in the public schools, giving her many opportunities to appreciate and respect multiple cultures and learning styles. BJ credits her parents, John and Margaret Karr, for creating a literary environment where she could grow and learn. Yearly birthday memoir letters composed for other family members, anniversary letters expressing deep sentiments and/or humor, diaries holding philosophies, essays regarding life, occasions for poetic musings, and many opportunities for oral discussions, storytelling, and so on are some enduring memories for BJ. “I’ve been writing as a means of expression since I was a child,” she reflects. “That’s what writers do. We write about what inspires us, always taking mental notes as we observe and categorize life into its myriad possibilities for others and ourselves. We inspire each other with our words, pictures, paintings and music – whatever artistic form gives voice to our emotional/spiritual selves – presenting them as a gift to the world.” BJ continues to grow and learn professionally by subscribing to Poets & Writers, attending workshops and courses affiliated with Grub Street in Boston and The Loft in Sherborn, and participating in writers’ roundtables. In addition, she holds a degree as a certified Master Reiki Shamballa Instructor, practicing other religious modalities as they introduce themselves along the way. In the future, BJ intends to write children’s literary picture books, thematic poetry anthologies, flash fiction collections, and snapshot memoirs. She recently co-wrote a fantasy picture book with her grandson, Austin, and is anxious to publish it as a second-third-grade guided reading book.

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      Book preview

      Gabriel’s Light - BJ Feeney

      Laments

      GettyImages-883113820.jpg

      Peace

      If only it could be

      for all time …

      I am sorry

      for all that

      has happened,

      for all that will happen

      in the name of justice.

      Will humankind ever learn

      to compromise, give in?

      Cannot God intercede?

      Or is it all part

      of the greater plan?

      The greater blueprint,

      with sinewy threads,

      binds us all

      in the end

      to Him.

      Some days

      I find it hard

      to give my soul

      up to Him.

      Still trying

      to control

      that which I

      cannot.

      Yearning for

      that ever-elusive

      peace.

      Lurking

      It comes as a pulse,

      lurking behind

      my eyes, pounding

      in a steady rhythm.

      I tire of it all.

      The expectations

      I put on myself.

      They are there

      when I slumber.

      Again when I rise,

      slowly emerging through

      a blurry dream state,

      trying to refocus,

      rethink my paths.

      I cannot shirk

      my duties but

      give voice otherwise

      to those who

      will listen

      to the steady

      complaining rhythms

      echoing

      through my soul.

      Light Switches

      Light switches go on and off

      in my ethereal brain.

      Dysfunction rules the nest.

      Discordant energies take over

      where feeble solace has resided.

      There is nothing left but pity.

      The more I search for a peaceful haven,

      the harder the journey’s climb,

      attracting negative field forces

      to fill the holes exposed between

      the shorted emotional circuitry

      of my unbridled mind/self.

      Where is the control panel?

      I lost it on some quest

      for undeceived redemption

      that knew long before I that

      the payment was overdue;

      a tardy assignment unrealized

      even though contracted,

      the time having run out.

      A disconnected exchange sways

      like a leery black cat’s tail,

      sweeping back and forth

      over the same blasted issue,

      wary avoidance disguised in

      its deceptive shadowy garb,

      a decisive slap in the face.

      These light switches will never

      function as long as I continue to

      eject the broken records left

      lying out in the open

      for all to unfavorably discern.

      My lineage is distrustful of

      another contract stifled by ineptness,

      and rightly so, I say, rightly so …

      Fly Away Home

      Sometimes I feel

      I need to fly away

      from all the worldly

      cares and woes.

      Spread my wings,

      leave it all behind.

      Here, underneath

      my blanket of rest,

      I can already sense

      the peace.

      But then my eyes open,

      and I am still here,

      some unfinished

      business my soul

      must need to do.

      But oh, how I wish

      I could just spread

      my wings and

      fly away home.

      Victimization

      Who has been traumatized

      more than the other?

      It is the universal question.

      Is the murderer’s heart,

      hardened by years

      of tortured silence,

      any less the victim

      than the one lying

      prone at his feet,

      an innocent participant

      in his demise,

      open and bare for

      all to see and judge,

      all of us who have

      been the abusers

      as well as the abused?

      Who is really to

      blame along these

      interwoven tales of woe?

      The universe weeps

      for timely relief,

      weary of repeated

      patterns of sorrow.

      Anger spent.

      Anger coiled

      for another strike

      in another time.

      Victimization.

      In or Out?

      Are you in or out?

      I ask myself this question

      whenever I feel the fear

      well up inside me,

      taking over my sense

      of uncertain self.

      It is a task

      I do not relish,

      answering that

      perennial question

      we all ask ourselves

      at one time or another.

      Are you in or out?

      I hear it reverberate

      down the misguided paths

      of my past adventures,

      left upon some hillside

      for immediate reflection.

      It is a task

      I readily avoid,

      shirking the work

      required to find

      that answer within

      my defensive self.

      Are you in or out?

      I’m tired of

      this gnawing interrogation

      presented by self to self.

      It may be time to take

      it on full force,

      a risk worth the

      soul’s complaints.

      Indigestion

      Shades of gaseous emissions

      lodged in my sore throat.

      Leftover lies I’ve secretly

      shared with my vulnerable

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