Skip to main content


FOR TARA by Penn Kemp

Goddess of Compassion and Wisdom, I need to recall,  reclaim you, invite you to return to my heart. Come back  to my heart, Love, where you are home. There’s room. 
There is room enough for two, for multitudes. For you.  Become me, I beg you. Worry my concern into peace.  Shake this rag doll out of stiff contrition back to joy. 
Till bones, blood, marrow, mind all leap up to dance,  to expand and mingle with the greater Presence, gift  we are heir to if we remember to remember the Whole. 
The whole that made us, not that hole I fall into.  From her celestial seat in the Pure Land, Tara smiles, extending a hand of pure blessing, her invitation. Up.

Penn Kemp--poet, performer and playwright--has been active in Canada’s literary scene since her first publication of poetry, Bearing Down, by Coach House (1972). As well as editing Canada’s first anthology of women’s writing, IS 14 (1973), many of her books have been devoted to the goddess in all her guises. Kemp has been lauded as a trailblaze…
Recent posts


The Radiance of Change * As the currents of my being become more fully free, more often I have prolonged  moments of dropping into  my own validity. Time and time again congestion caused by  bygone perplexities unwinds and allows for novelty and liberation. Rooted in rightness, this involves a purposeful  willingness to let go. I can’t change what was, only my reactions to what  is right in front of me. Recognizing the possibility  of old patterns pulling me astray, I can choose to rely upon bedrock of excavated truths to discover a new way through. Lovingly, tenderly I wrap my arms around  all I’ve been, all I am, and all I have left to be. I encourage the freedom of unfettering, nurture the power of presence and embrace the radiance of change. There is beauty in me right here, right now. More and more I feel safe  to let it reflect and refract into the light of day.

Sarah Carlson has many pieces to her whole, as most of us do. Those pieces include: mother, teacher, daughter, friend, widow, sister, skier, bicyclist, hi…


Remember the Goddess
Your earth is not flat as you thought it was.
Your feet are not glued to the ground.
You can fly with the wings of machinery.
New worlds are sought out & then found.
Your Patriarchy, flawed and corrupted.
Your Government now full of shame.
Your fingers are pointing at everyone
Yet none are willing to take the blame.
Your world now polluted and dying.
Your children distracted and ill
Your food mass produced and a poison
But it tastes good, so you'll pay the bill.
Religion alone cannot save us.
Ideologies ancient and wrong
The god that you worship can't hear you
He's turned a deaf ear to your song.
If all that you knew is proved twisted
Like an image in mirrors of fun
Why not change what we're doing and alter
The future, and bow to the sun?
Revere all that's natural & holy,
The Universe calls to your soul.
Remember the Goddess who birthed us
Let LOVE be our ultimate goal.

Peggy Frye: I am a licensed administrator, the eldest of five daughters, trice divorced from…

ABOUT TO SUCCUMB by Maureen Lancaster

How do you find yourself once you realize that you have become so deeply lost that you are ready to take that last breath: the one before you succumb to the tar-sands of fear and despair which are dragging you-ever so relentlessly-under? 
You dig deep, really deep, to find within yourself the understanding that only YOU have the power to let the past be released, in order to allow the present to heal, and the future to unfold with hope and trust as your soul journeys along through life's lessons.
For me, the vision of that quagmire tar's grip as I slipped off the rock that I was desperately clinging to, still resonates and reminds me of the days past; not only of how helpless I felt, but more of how empowered I was slowly becoming during those initial gathering moments of strength. For it was in the struggle that i realized how strong my will was.  
ABOUT TO SUCCUMB...(a series of Tankas) Maureen Lancaster
about to succumb black depths clawing at my soul trying hard to breathe panic o…

SPRING RAIN by Tammy Takahashi


by Tammy Takahashi

When the rain burst forth From the stormy sky, And I threw my arms out wide And arched my back deeply, As far as it would go, It wasn’t for the heavens, Or the sorrows we all know.
There was only this moment, Clouds gathered dark, Now ready to explode, And I, out alone on a walk, Ready to meet the offering Washing over my skin, Tricking down to my toes.
I imagined all my questions Seeping into the ground, And gingerly entered the space Newly opened in my mind To discover that it, too, was sky, And that I could embrace it With every dream I could find.
I ran on the sopping leaves, Danced from tree to tree, As each of them taught me How to stand proud and pure Between the giddy conversations Flowing from ground and sky, How to be me, to find the free.

Tammy Takahashi is a Canadian writer, photographer and chronicler of life as it passes through us.Always a wanderer, she's endlessly mesmerized by people, places and everything in between; the world is somehow so vast and so small. …

THE DESCENT by Rachel Lyon

The Descent
by Rachel Lyon

The wet, dripping walls of this cave I stroke on my decent into the inner chambers barefooted and disrobed
The cold air brushes my shoulders as the empty space sucks me into its womb
where no light penetrates and no flower grows where shadowsemanate
The cave of my desires The impregnation of my dreams I turn in this expanse of space  fingertips stroking nothingness 
Down here I am reborn  My mind manifests beauty onto dark, shiny walls The projector  illuminates  the deep fantasies of life
A woman descends  in her underground chamber  to be reborn again and again
To bring light to the world as the light barer A new egg gifted to her palms gently folding to cup her desires that overflow everlastingly to her lips she swallows the divine
She takes darkness into herself and births light ascends upon a new moon night

Rachel Lyon: I have been writing poetry since childhood, as a means of recording my feelings. I spiritually awoke when I was 20, while visiting Arizona and have pursued my writing …


There is a thought that ideas and inspiration come in from a source higher than ourselves. When open to its arrival this etheric essence merges with our being to transform into materialized substance, thus story is born. While this is true, the spark that ignites our being is also etched from the very pen of personal experience, creating a unique story that is all our own. This is mine: 

The Reunification of Self by Nichole Spinarski
I grieve for leaving you alone down there, without dagger or sword, without blanket or shawl. A frigid world incased in the fragility of your wanton thoughts. Inescapable except for the annihilation of self and the demons that occupy your house.
I grieve for the floods that have left you for dead. In a damp land of emotion, floating on a boat of tears, with no clear land in sight.
I grieve for the fire that has lost its spark. In a world where fear reigns supreme, and any ideas grand or small are quickly extinguished by the density of form that is too idle to move, and t…