Gaia: Connect. Grow. Inspire. Empower.
late summer morning
sherab
A gibbous moon ascends the grey dawn sky; windy bands of cloud chase out of the east: the small cat on the roof gathers his tail. The humid air stirs around my body; east of... More »
The Gulls at Isles of Shoals
sherab
The Gulls at Isles of Shoals Ah! the ubiquitous herring gull. How they haunted me as a child: At times, placid as mallards, Or bending their wings in the breeze,... More »
from her morning walk
sherab
A shoe in the window, or it's a cat She seemed to say, with her mouth half open Pointing with both hands. See. There. Look at that. Face damp with spray (or tears from the... More »
change:a poem
sherab
Change: one Elect me as your president Open this new chapter of life History speaks through your blue eyes A quality of strength in your make-up You mediate the channels of the heart Loosen the... More »
What do you want to be remembered for?
sherab
I'm not sure i really want to be remembered. so much of what i've done caused pain for others. left things broken or used up. Those are the marks I've left If I could finish... More »
Storms
sherab
Storms balance Everybody I thought i had made the change held the moment in my hand But just like you i mistook what i knew for what was new. now i stand in a shattering... More »
Too many questions
sherab
~o~ Are you the one for whom I searched? Scratching the surface of the skin for hidden stings? Poking in places where I did not belong? Have I embarrassed you? Made you blush and turn... More »
Friends, Kin and Fellow Travellers
sherab
~o~ I Dreamt that I had Quarreled with my Brother and Woke to find His Blood on both my Hands. Sister Told me we were Both born only Children and our Kindred wandered Far across... More »
memorial day 2007
sherab
And who was that great hero we trampled yesterday? Beneath the pipes and careful marching steps, The road we spat on and the eloquent decay Of loyalty, community and trust. This Uncivil celebration rife with... More »
of Flowers
sherab
Flowers fade and die; therein lies the truth of their beauty. A rose vine might grow a hundred years, But we see only the plucked bloom, The beauty of the fresh moment Gnarled roots, thorns,... More »
QaR
September 2008 