The Hag of Beara Ireland

While in Ireland I was inspired to write a poem about a most amazing woman, The Hag of Beara. Now a stone I devoted a full month to creating an installation performance piece at the Burren College of Art to her. Here is the poem I wrote.

Ahh yes, I have a story

Beauty crystallized



forced to stagnate alive within this hideous stone form

Does it shock you to know I am alive?

I wither forced to hide alone   frozen

A hard granite shell merged with skin

So yes, I feel your pathetic pawing

And yet I remain invisible to you

Impervious to my shudders   Your hands like a boxers punch rest heavily upon my chest

tears brushed aside as sea foam

Let my cold body meet the sun’s warmth

Within beats a powerful rhythm

such an ugly lump of stone

Marrow bleeds and whispers

Darkness dances with damp decay

Branches grow thick with soft moss

can a heart break that no longer exits?

can visions cloud and clear or awaken only to death?

the wild Atlantic roars pounding the shore

foam forbidden fingers grasp for what is no longer there for he too has been banished

The god of the sea forbidden from reaching the rocky shore

His pain causes the sea to swell

if only this time

I no longer carry the scent of the sea

This rock coffin hides Sapphires and emeralds

a prison of stone fragile and dead

Yet, memories arise stories walk the island

A young and beautiful powerful warrior maiden gifted with powers beyond any mortal

An acrid sea salt scent gliding on the breeze

I am both beautiful and terrifying

Sea weed grasps for my ankles, thorns draw blood

darkness drips sheets of ruby

Dripping in rhythm I fall under a spell

Ghost of what was of all that had been

Lost words tangle in my hair twisting changing directions lifting and falling

Dripping ceases all sound

A soul shelter       Death                   is this how I recover?

I have grown old   Old,     no ancient ,

Yet I dance as a youth upon the cold damp sand

Shells open in anticipation dying as they huddle close

Mumble prayers to clouds

Wind whispers a command,” Tell me of your fears, tell me of your cares.”

Sea scented winds Head held high I enter the sea     wild waves entwine me   scrub me clean   until I once again am young and beautiful

Merely an echo

Howling winds dance in my ears repeating broken phrases

repeating broken words trapped in timeless moments

Seashells hide reason and thought no desire to be exposed to light

safe without a voice      Safe now                           Silent

Dying story written on decaying leaves

Secrets succumb

Words trapped in time mumble

Do not separate what belongs together

Desiccated corpses flounder

I want not your plastic baubles     I want to sore free

Rushing into the sea ice awakening my dead heart

The audacity   believing this granite entraps my soul

Do not be fooled by harsh cold wind   it is I

Ride the wind across the ocean searching lips give voice to my story

Past rests in the sand to blur all vision

A mix of wind and sand burning as if memory itself was not enough

gripped tightly in the fist of time, form and color alter, dust, no other worlds.

One wonders as the waves swell and the sea crashes only to appear as calm, is he awake?

Does he too stumble knowing not the night?

Anchored here as the Hag of Beara

Cover me with the sea and I shall once again be free.



Home Again

After 3 amazing months in Ireland I am home and I had two wonderful surprises waiting for me. First a card from someone I met on the train as I went cross country. Unfortunately she left the train in an ambulance and her last words were I have a DNR in my purse give it to them. I had text her repeatedly with no response and finally gave up feeling sad and discouraged. But all is well and I am so happy to hear from her. Sometimes you just have to believe.

The second was a wonderful surprise from a brilliant, creative and sensitive blogger.JanniStyles1. Her post always touch my heart and her words have carried me through hard times even though she did not know she was writing what I needed to hear. She is open honest and full of warmth and integrity. A woman whom I have never met but feel a deep soul connection to. I invite all readers to check out her words, her poetry and just experience JanniStyles1.

Jannie your gift is spectacular the angle is you as you have been to me so many times and the blanket/shawl soft and nurturing. The true Native Tradition. The gift brought me to tears as it touched my heart and comforts me even now.

So all, sometimes just believing in magic, miracles and wonder and despite any challenges love and joy find away through. Thank you all for sticking with me and never stop believing that’s where the magic is. Yotaki Beautywalk


After the idiot-elect appointing hate and more hate to office I think it is time to follow my dream. December I am off to Ireland for as long or short as I wish. Once across the ocean there are so many countries and places to explore and enjoy. Anyone open to a visit let me know I would love to meet you.

First I climbed up on the studio roof, Yea!!! Big courage but the other day I climbed up on the angled and weak trailer roof. This required 3 times climbing the ladder, readjusting the ladder’s position and finally climbing up with the supplies to repair the peaked roof.

So what did I do when I climbed down? Book passage to England and a flight to the east coast to board the ship. No plans, no dates to meet, or places to be.  Free to be me as the old school song says.

If you want to change your life simply climb a ladder to the roof.

No Milk

I have a very sad cup of tea tonight.

No milk.

Earl Grey

but…No milk

I’d say Goodbye if

Driving home I hear a country western song and one line was, “I’d say goodbye but I don’t remember her name.” I may not have quoted it correctly. He was singing about leaving in the morning but the woman he had spent the night with was still sleeping.

This post is about The Queen of Hearts. I spent 2 nights on the train sleeping next to a woman who called herself the queen of hearts. She gave me her card.

The Queen of Hearts was a very troubled woman, her ex was going to prison, she was leaving her daughter and grandchildren behind and her health was not good.  During the ride her diabetes acted up and finally caused her system to begin to shut down.

But oh she was funny! A sharp sense of humor with a cutting edge and honest to a needle point. And kind. In spite of all she was quietly suffering through she was good, forgiving and made us family. Even the two young men in the seat behind us grew to be allies. That’s how it is on the train. The last night just hours before her stop she called to me, “Gypsy, ( her name for me), I have a DNR on top of my purse, if anything happens give it to them.” She was shivering and sweating often getting delirious. “I”m scared, please help me.” “I hope my brother is at the stop.” Again she insisted I find the DNR and told me about other aliments. Finally, when she could no longer move I got the conductor who called for an ambulance to meet the train at the next stop.

It seemed endless but finally the stop with brother and ambulance appeared. It took time as the twisted stairway is very narrow but they transported her onto a gurney and as the train pulled away so did the ambulance. I will never forget the Queen of Hearts and hope she has survived. Today listening to a song about sleeping with a woman who he did not even remember the name of made me recall a woman, a Queen of Hearts, who I shall never forget. During the train ride she told me of her dream to open a restaurant and together we visualized and named it. Amethyst. Elegant, international foods, lavender decor, inside a cottage house with a large glass window. Should you ever see a restaurant Named Amethyst please tell the Queen of Hearts Gypsy said hello.


Meeting on the Edge

I have been on a train adventure for the past 2 weeks. A fascinating, wonderful and perhaps life adjusting, mind opening experience. One of the most amazing people on the train was Lightening.

Lightening is a tiny waif woman who could be in her 20’s but is actually 38.  She describes herself as being mostly homeless. A gourmand pastry chef who dreams of one day having her own business, Cuppie Cakes. We spoke of many things.

Lightening met an angel. As time flew by in undisturbed speed, perhaps a black hole, souls connected in the vulnerable way of strangers. “Walk in my shoes”, she cried and we did, stepping into each others world with one foot still in our own. As brilliant and beautiful as Lightening was her soul bleed. It cried for answers, too many questions to untangle. We spoke in the open way strangers sometimes do and connected on a deep cellular level. She made my hair into a fish braid and I gave her my Tibetan healing ring for protection on her journey. She called me an angel and just wanted to sit near me in silence to absorb the zen as she put it.

Before she got off the train she made me promise I would not move from the seat because she was afraid when she turned around I would have disappeared. I carry her in my heart until we once again meet on the edge.

I just wanted to tell you about Cuppie Cakes and invite you to look for her as you journey in life.




Baba Sali



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