In the end there is one dance you’ll do alone…..
For a Dancer ( by Jackson Browne) https://www.facebook.com/OfficialJacksonBrowne/ https://www.gofundme.com/saving-janavi paypal.me/pools/c/87lRidKXWt
Book Giveaway
❣️BOOK GIVE AWAY!!!❣️ ❣️Dear Friends, We are giving away a hardcover copy of Janavi’s beautiful book of poetry and photography to draw attention to the fundraiser. She is seriously ill and needs your help. To enter please give a donation of any amount or if you are unable, please share this post with as many…
I’m Still Here
EDITOR’S NOTE: (re-posted from: https://womenspiritualpoetry.blogspot.com/2018/06/i-am-still-here-by-janavi-held.html) This was composed by a very gifted and beautiful soul: a regular contributor to our poetry project, and dear friend of mine, Janavi Held, whose life is gradually being taken from us by an incurable illness. She has been suffering from Complex Regional Pain Syndrome and Internal Adhesions for six painful…
Review by Anita Neilson
Letters to My Oldest Friend by Janavi Held (Goodreads Author) Anita Neilson‘s review Nov 04, 2017 This is simply glorious. The words flow gently across the page in a waterfall of despair and hope, grief and faith, pain and joy. Together with beautifully crafted photographs of the natural world, it is a wonderful, precious undertaking.…
Memory
I’ve walked so far and gotten nowhere. I contain endless memories yet I own nothing. My heart knows the falling out the falling down the falling away it remembers breaking and dreams of ascending and the endless labors which daily life is famous for. Titanic, lying memories forfeiting time lay in shards at my…
I wish I had Wings
I wish I had wings I’d leave this prison of gravity behind and go up and up grazing the tops of dazzling green trees swaying in the wind I’d soar through the mists of bright clouds breathing in freedom and moist particles of fog and rain I’d turn my face to the sun warm warming…
Time Unhinged
Video with spoken poetry below Time Unhinged Dreamt of exterminated images, and forgotten doubts, of unhinged time with the hollow of silent bones thundering in the wake of restless flowers. Blinded by a vigilant morning I enter the mists of loneliness seeking laughter and daydreams (to counter the emptiness) too long for counting these…
Letters to My Oldest Friend 