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turning demons into flowers

By Susan Hadler

we began with demons
and ended
with flowers on the floor.

the demons lost their power
when blossoms sprouted in our ears
and fell from our tongues.

and when they left
i showered them with flowers
and thereís plenty left for me.



By Annie Sidley

I feel the last of the morningís tears
and hear the children singing in the trees
and feel Godís breath in the breeze
The newness of the day reveals itself in the beginning of every moment
The flowers open to receive the gift of warmth and light
the music of the dawn fills the air
These words penetrate the constant flow of images in my head
The wind reminds me to appreciate the unknown
to embrace unpredictability
This is not silence
but the sound of a symphony created every day
but only heard by those who choose to listen

This poem will be set to music and will be available on my next CD, "Diamond in the Sand," due out in early 2005.


photo from

Poems from the Winter Retreat at Deer Park 2004

By Elisabeth Dearborn

Morning sun ripens my awakening heart.
Walking slowly,
a flock of birds rises from my chest.

My mother dies.
The wild lilac sings her blue song
across the hidden mountains.

Many dharma doors await me at the fish pond.
First one, and then another,

Four weeks and five times I watch
you draw a picture of store consciousness.
Tell me,
did that sweet rose of a mother of yours
feed you lima beans?

photo from

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