Their warm presence seeps in 
Like a smooth welcoming haze. 

Over my being, they guide their trusting hands
Upon my soul with truthful, bursting noise. 

Intricately sewn into me,
The DNA of my ancestors sings-

Calling forth my roots
That are buried as deep as the oak. 

My heart throbs at the longing of being together,
To intertwine our souls tightly as one. 

They pull me to soil
Not yet touched by my feet in this life,

Courting me from place to place-
Down the path where I need to be. 

To ignite the fire
That already lives within my soul's divine space.  

By: Rebekah Turney

“A Coward’s Quarrel”

How its branches lay out,

The thick aged trunk steeping into the soil-

Flexing its way through the earth,

Reaching endlessly.

How the wind tickles the leaves

And whispers to me softly-

Caressing my collarbone

As it pricks the hair up on my skin.

The branches open their arms up to me,

Begging me to join them,

Asking me to come and play-

So that I may ease this burning sadness

And with its leaves wipe away these unhinged tears.

But I sit and continue to stare.

“What a foolish thing to climb a tree!”

I think as I remain sitting in my suffering.

Never knowing more than “what if,”

And I proceed to elude and blind the pain.


By: Rebekah Turney


I’ve held on for so long
And now it’s time to free you.
You’ve served no purpose in my thoughts,
I’m bidding thee adeau.

I didn’t think I had the strength
To take on such a task,
But, alas, here I am
Now loosening my grasp.

I watch you drift up onward
As you break off of the flame,
A happiness parades my soul
That I can hardly contain.

It’s time for me to let go, you see,
Erase you from my mind’s eye,
So as you float on to another place
I say my last goodbye.


By: Rebekah Turney

“Inquisition of the Soul”

I woke up to my finger pressed against a list of notes.

I don’t know how it got there, or why it lie beneath my palm.

This occurrence now repeats itself

Peaking all of my curiosity.

I lift my palm and start to gander through its peculiar roots,

Stretching deep into the ground,

That gently interferes with but a moment of my day.

Though it shouldn’t be surprising,

I took it that sort anyway.

Staring vastly into my eyes

Was what my mind would dare not let me see.

“Stubborn Lass!” I tell myself,

As I ponder all my lover’s done for me.

Something desperately clings to reveal the truth,

But who else would that be but me?

And, who else, but me, stand in my way?

By: Rebekah Turney