Author: <span class="vcard">Gudrun</span>

October

1)
I look at the month
of forgiveness—when rains
come down, when the land expands
with relief, and I forgive myself
for every complaint against heat,

though I still save dish water
for the courtyard
as a hot, dry climate
and fading sun
slowly relent.

2)
I do not forget:
The Drought Years
That Year of Fighting Bucks
Coyote Years
The Year of Fawns

That Skunk Family Year
Mountain Lion Years
Bobcat Years

and Years When I Don’t Know
What to Expect.


October 6, 2019
Gudrun Mouw (c)

A Poem

“I will not be afraid to enjoy

what is beautiful, and to believe that

as I give to the world, so the world

will give to me.”

—Unknown

I look at these Zinnias feeling grateful and heartened. In spite of a recent surge of national hatred, bigotry, cruelty and selfishness, this bouquet reminds me how important it is to keep cherishing that which affirms, that which gives generously and that which spreads goodwill and joy. I smiled when these flowers greeted me as I arrived to teach a yoga class, and I am smiling now.

September, 2019

Personal Updates The Spiritual Journey

August Lesson

“August represents pure love,” my teacher’s teacher said;
then, why does hatred pull hatred to the mark?
After two national massacres, today looks
unreal. Hardly a bloom in the courtyard under cold fog
followed by wind over brown, dead grass.

I finish reading another bad book, sip lemon water.
Two friends connect by phone; I am willing to help.
We look for ways to heal, to engage, to find once again
joy hiding among the decades.

Gudrun Mouw (c)
August 7, 2019

A Poem

MORNING DRIZZLE

Barely visible, a transparent sheet
of moisture falls
to the semi-arid earth.

Something precious stirs—
something momentous like a birth.

Summer Solstice happened;
one more spring has passed.
Morning deer have grazed and gone.

A neighbor’s cat appears on life’s screen,
then, ducks out, under our gate.
How much more is there,
to wonder and to love.

Gudrun Mouw (c)
June 20, 2019

A Poem

IF ONLY…

If only wind would
diminish; if only May would not
feel like winter.

If only humanity were
more humane. If only love
spread wings everywhere,
and rest would stay sweet.

She would be all
that she could, if only
it were June.

Gudrun Mouw (c)
May 23, 2019

A Poem

My novel, From Ashes Into Light, is a reflection of new insights I gained into PTSD. For example, during an intense flashback to an event that probably caused the original injuries to my ears, I was six years old again; I remembered something that I had repressed.

PTSD flashbacks, I now realize, are part of a healing process. New information creates the space for re-learning, re-evaluating and honoring a journey that may take a lifetime.

Do we need to be reminded, these days, that there is no acceptable hatred? Horrible and reprehensible deeds are not o.k. The trauma such deeds create are not easily overcome. More and more people are suffering from PTSD.

I published the historical/metaphysical novel From Ashes Into Light in 2016 with themes in mind that I hoped would warn against the dangers of tolerated cruelty. I’d like to think this hope was, and is, not in vain.


Gudrun Mouw is a poet, yoga teacher and a novelist. Her novel From Ashes Into Light won 7 awards, including the Beverly Hills Book Award for Visionary Fiction and a silver medal in the Living Now Book Awards for Inspirational Fiction. For more information, please see her bio.

From Ashes Into Light Personal Updates