Christine Salkin Davis (Focail do a Chara)

I had a dream, but like many dreams do, it turned into a nightmare before I awoke. I thank the gods I awoke, Awakening still. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2020

The sky was dark and the rain pelted the windshield. The crackling sound was punctuated by the whoosh whoosh whoosh of the wiper blades. Journeys to nowhere and the interminable winter storms. Attend to the road, for you never know where it will end and sometimes the potholes are deep. Be safe, child. There are detours ahead. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2020

You are surrounded by love and everything that shines like the sun. The stillness is beautiful and shines. Let go and open your eyes; you will float softly to the ground and the landing will be gentle. See. The darkness is holy and that is a divine gift. This will be the year of our blossoming, begin. Are you a fish out of water? The waves will cover you and carry you home. The door to your heart sparkles like jewels. What lies beyond; the awakening. This is a journey. Enter beauty for you are beautiful. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2020

The year end pounding in my head, I drink the bitter juice and watch the sun warm the bare branches. The wind blows gently but cold envelops. Compassion. You don't see through the sweetness. Comfort it is not. Holy disruptions and shadows deepen. Receive, soft friend. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2020

doing home and warm, sunlight filters in, simple sweetness, compassion stands against despair. making both a shelter, but great are clear things. the answer is now. circling the city, for change. Never forget the children. Ponder a winter day. Consider the way forward. Ritual bliss. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2020

Believe the world they shelter in, longest night and shadows deepen, hope. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2020

Everybody believes in something. I believe in love, small good things, soft friends, the giving and receiving of breath and air. how loved her                         and were here. better tiny hold here. love is stronger. finally, rest. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2020

The sun sparkles gold on the brown leaves and the finch voraciously eats her seed. See through small things help is on her way. In the avalanche of post-Christmas paper and sugar crash, hold need and shelter; better than salve is home, fire of love. Who and why will clarify. Nothing is alright besides good. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2020