Natalia Govsha (Canada)

 
Natalia Govsha (Canada)
 
Natalia Govsha is a poet and an artist from Mississauga, Ontario, Canada. She studies philosophy, alchemy and synthesis of religions. This knowledge is reflected in her poems, stories and pictures.
 
She has published five books –
 
“WOMAN’S DIARY” (2015),
“IF YOU LOOK AT THE SKY” (2018),
“PAINTED STORIES” (2020),
“2020: COVID-19 FREEdom Life” (2020),
“To the LORD my prayers” (2020).
 
Her poems, paintings and drawings have been published in many anthologies and magazines:
 
Cinematic Codes Review, 2018
Atunis Galaxy Anthology, 2020
Atunis Galaxy Anthology, 2021
Poetry Train Canada, 2015
Poetry Train 10th Anniversary Anthology, 2020
FM 33, Autumn 2020
FM 34, Winter 21
FM 36, Summer 21
FM 37, Autumn 21
FM 38, Winter 21/22
World Poetry Open Mic, 2020 Anthology
World Poets, Female Voices
Inextinguishable Candle, 2020
Other Times, 2021
Global Insides–the vaccine Paperback – July 11 2021
 
 
QUINTESSENCE
 
I sank to the bottom of emptiness.
There is no rest. There is no silence.
There is no shadow of detachment
or completeness. There is
a crushing deafening worthlessness.
 
And from the bottom up through the layers
I look at the movement on the surface –
here life in confusion rushes around
left and right, and upside-down.
And everything slips by and by.
 
I feel like I’m in zero gravitation –
in weightlessness, out of sensations.
Outside of thoughts, sounds, and dimensions.
The cold of unwillingness kills consciousness.
Merging with the fluid of emptiness.
 
Dissolving in it the ego and the essence.
And the eternal question
manifests itself in the quintessence –
have I ever existed?
 
 
ONCE UPON A TIME…
 
I’m running back into the past
more and more often.
Life there is sweet,
like a candy fog.
 
There an old mill with its
chipped wings
smashes the stagnant time
in the hot summer breeze.
 
And there the sounds fly,
pushing off the clots
of various matter,
swinging it.
 
The cicadas, hidden,
are ringing, straining
the air string.
 
Wild honey dripping
from the hollow
down the old tree
to the tongues of grass.
 
The crackle of transparency
of a dragonfly
vibrated for a moment
and fell silent.
 
The apple is filled
with nectar emanating
from the sun and earth.
 
And all my thoughts
flutter like butterflies
in smiling sunny palms.
 
And in the laughing sunbeams
I dance with a wreath
of wildflowers
around my head.
 
I hold the hands
of my loved ones
and my sweet friends.
 
Long time ago
They have left me…
They were a rainbow
in my distant past.
 
And I, like a raindrop,
follow them back
along the rainbow path…
 
 
PRAYER
 
My Lord, I beg you,
hear my prayer – my silent one.
My path is now from the fair –
as down from the mountain.
I’m getting old and soon
I’ll lie into your palm.
But before that,
don’t let me talk too much;
free me from my vain thought
that I must straighten out
other people’s affairs
‘cause with the wisdom
of my long life,
it seems to me that everyone
needs my advice;
give me the patience
to listen with compassion
to the complaints of others,
but seal my lips
with my complains about my pains –
as I get older,
I tend to talk about it;
give more humility
and less self-confidence;
let me not be a harsh old woman,
because becoming her is
one of the devil’s masterpieces;
make me humane and helpful;
and let me, Lord,
discover merit and talents
in people that
I never even thought of,
and Lord, my, give me grace
to tell them so.
Amen…
 
 
OLD LEAVES
 
Here is
another leaf
that’s fallen
from the Tree of Life
and sunk into eternity.
 
And quite
a few of us
remained
on the living branch.
 
We are
still trembling
in the wind of fate
with open eyes
and open hearts.
 
And we
still breathe and feel
the stream of life
in our veins …
 
The chains
of loneliness
keep getting narrower.
The nature of wisdom
grows deeper.
 
But we,
covered in winter,
are trying
to bring back
our green spring.
 
We are
old leaves, still
clinging to the Tree of Life.
And we are
still alive.
 
 
AUTUMN ROMANCE
 
Fly, soul that has gained wings,
to the tune of falling leaves.
Through vague night dreams,
and a clear-cut days,
and through the autumn flames
and through the morning mist,
through the crisscrossing rain.
Fly through the flocks of cranes
singing goodbye, flying away,
leaving the dying autumn coals.
Fly, soul, pervade all that exists.
Mysterious sounds you will hear,
and you will see unknown color.
You will become a drop of the sea,
bewitched by the moonlit sorrow;
and you’ll become the sap of a tree
given by the matter of the earth;
and the lightness of a free birds;
the oscillation of the vital source;
the last sigh of the falling leaves…
Fly, soul that has gained wings.
 
© Natalia Govsha
 

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