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Creating: Art & Poetry (Soul & Soil Blog)

All of the header images on this website are of impermanent nature art - Earth Altars - made with my own hands and co-created with the bounty of this magnificent planet.

In this blog you will find more images of my art, as well as poems.

For more, please visit www.earthaltars.com.

You can follow me on Facebook (Earth Altars by Laura Loescher) and Instagram (@lauraloescher.art). You can also search "Earth Altars by Laura Loescher" on Facebook to find my public page. 

Our Sorrows (Poem & Earth Altar)

7/1/2020

 
Picture
Our Sorrows


Our sorrows can bind us together
stitching our lives into a comforting quilt
that we can crawl under and hold hands in the dark
when it becomes too hard to look the shattered world in the eye


Our sorrows can bind us together
weaving strands of despair into a safety net
that will catch us when we can’t hold on any longer
when we let go and free-fall into the void


Our sorrows can bind us together 
lacing two broken wings into a pair
that can take flight when we must escape
when we let the wind carry us through stormy skies


Our sorrows can bind us together

​- Laura Loescher, June 2020

Life Wants to Live (Poem & Earth Altar)

6/6/2020

 
Picture
Life Wants to Live


Life wants to live
and she does so wildly
come avalanche tumbling
    volcano erupting
    storms and fires sweeping the globe


Life wants to live
and she does so gently
come seeds sprouting
    honey bees pollinating
    heart cracking open in awe


Life wants to live
and she does so artistically
come wildflowers blooming
    rainbows arching
    sunsets painting the sky orange violet


Life wants to live
and she does so tenderly
come cat purring
    tears streaming
    hand caressing the face of a beloved


Life wants to live
and she will carry on
come anything and everything
    life will carry on

​(by Laura Loescher, 2020)

Reverence for the Descent (Poem & Earth Altar)

5/25/2020

 
Picture
Reverence for the Descent


My friend has a Masters Degree
in Rites of Passage


Did you even know there was
such a thing?


She tells me
she has great reverence
for the Descent


That fall into darkness
that is part
of any true passage


We have finally
tumbled
over the threshold
she says,
into a free fall
and it is long overdue


This feels true to me


I’m both surprised
it has taken so long
and amazed
that it caught me
by surprise


I will listen,
a student of her wisdom
and the ancient knowledge
of her ancestors
of my ancestors
and all of our ancestors


She reminds me
that the caterpillar
doesn’t turn into
the butterfly
until after its body
dissolves into
something
unrecognizable
in the in-between


We’re not there yet


It’s more like
we’re at the stage
where, having gorged
on everything in sight,
we are bloated
and unwell


Some of us are laying
in the hammock
oblivious to the cocoon
beginning to take shape
around us


Others of us are
trying to make sense
of what’s happening
as the chrysalis
grows closer to sealing
its edges with us inside


Once in full darkness,
we may be able
to let go
to rest
to re-create


But in the moments
as the light is fading
and we can’t see clearly,
shadows look menacing
and we don’t know
what comes next


Is this where we are?


The Imaginal cells
that turn caterpillar
into butterfly
don’t activate
until the body
of what once was
truly surrenders
into the raw materials
of what will come


I want to help!
I want to lessen
the suffering
of this passage!


But she reminds
the helper in me
that the butterfly’s struggle
to emerge from the cocoon
is essential
to strengthen its wings


If I prod at the crack
to help it out
a little sooner
than its right timing
I could limit its
future strength
and the resiliency
necessary
for its survival


She also reminds me
that not everyone,
nor every thing,
survives
a Rite of Passage
and that’s part of
what makes it powerful
and real


It feels
like things are becoming
really, really, really real


(by Laura Loescher, April 2020)

Rhythm of Joy (Poem & Earth Altar)

5/25/2020

 
Picture
The Rhythm of Joy

Pressure.

Perhaps it was my perfectionist mother
Possibly it was my workaholic father
Probably it was the way the stars and planets
aligned at the time of my birth

Passing through the birth canal
with my laboring mother pushing hard
to deliver me into the antiseptic air
of the hospital room

Push. Scream.
Push. Sob.
Push. Swear.
Push.

This rhythm of pushing and pressuring -
could it have shaped not just my cranial plates
but also the wiring of my brain?

This rhythm, so natural and medicinal in childbirth
can become a poison later in life

Push. Cry.
Push. Crave.
Push. Collapse.
Push.

In middle age, perhaps I’m free
to rewire my brain (and my life)
with some new potent pathways

What does the rhythm of joy sound like?

Rest. Laugh.
Rest. Labor.
Rest. Love.
Rest. Linger.
Rest.

(by Laura Loescher, 2019)

    SOUL & SOIL BLOG

    I love playing with words and things in nature to create impermanent nature art (earth altars) and poems. This blog is a place to share. 

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  • Home
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