Roswila's Dream & Poetry Realm

SEE ALSO: TRYING TO HOLD A BOX OF LIGHT (photos, realistic to abstract)

Sunday, June 18, 2006


[Lily of the Valley photo from, by Kinchik]

When looking for an appropriate image for this post I recalled one of my fondest childhood memories that is inextricably tied up with my father. I adored the Lily of Valley that grew in our backyard where we lived from when I was five to around eight years old. I clearly recall his smile of delight one time when he "caught" me staring lovingly at and carefully exploring the design of their flowers and leaves as I lolled around in the grass under the backyard tree. I was embarrassed at the time, but years later it became a precious memory: my father taking delight in my joy.

I don't have many memories of this sort of my father and treasure them. We had, for the most part, a very troubled relationship. However, today I want to remember what was good about us and the healing I have undertaken over the years since his death. The healing that has changed him from a scary dream figure to a fellow and helpful traveller. The transformation that has turned his voice in my mind from one of criticism, guilting and abuse, into care, advice, and comfort. This sea change that has allowed me to see the great gift he gave me: the example of his creative way of thinking about and approaching things, and then doing them, all with delight. I believe I inherited any artistic talent I may have from my blood mother, but it is from my father that I absorbed ways of applying it joyfully in the world.

Years ago, during the process of healing my relationship with my father after his death, I often felt I was in a dialogue -- in my journal, in dreams, in light trancework -- directly with his soul. I do not claim to know whether this is true or not. I only know the results are as real as if I had been in direct communication with him and I am grateful for the healing that resulted and the support "he" continues to offer.

Below is a poem based on a dream I had one night, several years ago, about my father.

The Dream

She swirls with her father
above a winter sea.
A welcome absence rests between them.
His smile, sad and open to the starlight.
His ghostly fingers barely brush
her back, her hands, as they glide
together through the silence.
Following her lead at last,
he asks no more of her than this,
this one sweet dance,
this accident
of grace.

* * * *

P.S. My Tarot blog post (link at end of this post) for today is about The Emperor card, often seen as the archetypal father.

Resource: PERFECT LOVE/IMPERFECT RELATIONSHIPS: Healing the Wounded Heart, by John Welwood; Shambala Publications, Inc.; 2006; ISBN 1-59030-262-1. I very recently read this book and can't recommend it highly enough. It is both poetic, and pragmatic (offering a series of exercises you can do). It is deeply moving and helped me see that my journey of these past several years has been even more healing than I had dared to imagine. It also made clear what my next steps need to be.

‘til next time, keep dreaming,


[aka: Patricia Kelly]

****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blog: ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL.


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