Excerpt from The Gift of You, The Gift of Me
Thank you for
A place of peace
A place of dreams
And a place of sleep
Thank you for the ancient stones
For sand and sea
And a place called home
_______________
Nila’s Thoughts--These words were written as part of The Gift of You, The Gift of Me, a meditation on gratitude which I wrote several weeks after I'd heard about an act of bullying which ended in violence. I've always hoped that by deepening our awareness of our gratitude for all we have been given, including each other, than any desire to bully will be transformed into love and respect. I wrote this on the Saturday before Mother's Day many years ago, and still sometimes these years later, after a long day, my mind will replay these words: "Thank you for / a place of peace." It is a gift to know that we can be the peace for which we long.
_______________
Nila J. Webster has been writing since a young age, thanks to the encouragement and support of her beloved mother, poet jani johe webster. In the last six months, Nila has donated over 23,000 picture books in her mother's honor, with more to come. If anyone knows of schools or hospitals that would like to receive a picture book donation, please let her know at nila.webster@comcast.net.
Too often not noticed how GREAT the - for the eye or mind - 'more common or usual things really are. That's what a like about this moving poem.Dutch greetings Elly Wouterse
ReplyDeletethis is beautiful - 'the ancient stones' ♥
ReplyDeleteMaureen
Hi, Nila, a very lovely echo heard here in your words. I love the whole concept of your poem! Sheri
ReplyDeleteThis is a lovely gift to us readers, Nila! Short yet beautiful. Those ancient stones offer security and a sense of belonging. // paul
ReplyDeleteNila, what a lovely poem echoing your heart felt desire that there be peace in this world in and around us. It echoes my desires too, especially today as my 11 year old granddaughter came home to tell me of some cruel boys who stomped on the head of a mother bird after torturing it, whose nest had fallen from a tree with her young. They killed one of the baby birds and were torturing the other, until my granddaughter told them to stop and then one of the boys kicked her. She wasn't worried about the fact that she was kicked, but was concerned for the baby bird that had a broken wing. When they left, she and her friend hid it in the bushes hoping one of the boys wouldn't do what he said and get his bee bee gun and after school come back and shoot it in the head. She wanted to bring it home and nurse it back to health she was so distraught. After about an hour of talking about it she finally calmed down, even though she said she couldn't get the image out of her head.
ReplyDeleteLove, Charlene
Hi Nila. Thank you for sharing excerpts from "The Gift of You, The Gift of Me." I feel the softness of the verses as well as the passionate meaning of the poem. It's good to see your work again here at Whispers, for you are such a gifted and loving person. Thank you for sharing and continued blessings! -MJ
ReplyDeleteDear Nila,
ReplyDeleteThank you for sending me a copy of "The Gift of You, The Gift of Me, and for providing another class of Shannon's copies at no charge. You have such a generous heart my friend. The book and this excerpt are an extension of your gifted and uplifting soul.
Blessings,
Karen