Birgitta Jonsdottir'
New Zealand 
Birgitta recently moved from Iceland to New Zealand. She feels at home here and we here @ BMP welcome Birgitta as a New Zealand Guest Poet. Birgitta is an accomplished Author & Artist, to discover more about her click on the image to go to her personal website.
"Kia Ora Birgitta" - Editors 

Warriors of Words

listen poets of the world 
your words are mighty 
your vision is clear 
war is war is war 
never peace 
never healing 
if war 

the oracle of history speaks 
through your words 
through your courage 
fight with the pen 
with your vision 
but most importantly 
open the space between space 
the world between worlds 
between your words 

the world is not simple 
it is not even one 
it is in layers of understanding 
create that empty space 
of understanding 
by heart on fire 
by compassion 
by being unbearably honest 

create that space for free thinking 
curling through your words 
to hit in the heart of hearts 
like a bolt of enlightenment 

you are the carrier of the flame 
the favorite of the muse 
the warrior of words 
truth truth truth 
seek it speak it 

the bush is on fire 
illusions run deep 
seek speak the truth 
and hope shall remain 
peace shall remain 
in the s p a c e 

dedicated to all the people that took part in making the Book of Hope & the 
World Healing Book possible with their work and with their spirit

The Fall and Rise of the Eagle

I was in the great nest 
my mother a restless bird 
she nurtured me 
with hard to swallow food 
she longed to fly free 
with the music of the wind singing in her wings 
she longed to see me grow faster 
so she could claim her freedom 
so she pushed me from the nest 
before my wings were strong enough 
I fell 
tried to flap my weak wings 
but I fell 
down where it was not safe 
I did not know where to look for her 
I did not know where to mend my broken wings 
I walked into many dangers 
somehow I survived 
I never tried flapping my wings 
they healed 
but I never trusted them to carry me 
the ground world did not know what to make of me 
I was lost 
I longed for the sky 
but didn't know how to reach it 
everything was so up close that 
I lost my focus 

dreams of sky 
dreams of flying 

I talked to different animals 
humans and insects 
they told me stories 
and some lived with me 

I had walked far 
and I reached the edge 
of the abyss 

it called me 
I could see birds fly 
soar with grace and play 
I felt a great pull 
like the forces of nature 
where pushing me 
like my mother pushed me 
and standing there 
I knew it was up to me to fall or fly 
falling flying 
I took the leap 

and at first I fell and then I could feel 
the wind in my wings singing 
and I knew what to do 
I could see the picture clearly 
and I was flying 
and I could see that 
my time within the world at the ground 
was needed 
in order to bring 
new viewpoints 
to the world above 

I was flying 

no longer a bird without wings 
and a tree without roots 

I was flying 

a child of earth 
a child of sky 

I am eagle
Previously published in the World Healing Book 2002

Countdown to War 

My dreams are filled with dead childrens bodies, 
piling up in the middle east. 
I see their smiles, their future, 
that could have been. 
I see the broken hearts of their mothers & fathers 
and I cry while I sleep now. 

While awake I see headlines, 
carefully constructed by the mass media 
"Countdown to Iraq" 
Who owns the media? 
Who wants more children to die? 
For oil, for greed, for land, for the chosen few. 
Who are these chosen few? 
Are they me, 
are they you? 

Can I remain awake or is life becoming a living nightmare? 
Can I look myself in the eyes knowing that I am just standing by 
while the world is falling into the abyss of darkness. 
Deeper by day. 

Do we dare risk anything 
for our fellow brothers and sisters, that are suffering in our world? 
Do we dare be heroes and not just sit by as 
the bullets and missiles rain over the Palestinian children? 
As the children in Afghanistan die like flies this winter? 
As the children in Iraq wait with fear in their heart 
about what will happen next? 
Can we really sleep with out seeing those bodies 
fill our dreams? 
The eyes, the smiles 
that will be 
no more. 
Do we dare be heroes? 
Or will we watch our world be crucified again 
in fear, 
of love, 
in fear? 

The choice has never been more clear, 
what do you choose? 

Previously published at the Blacklisted Journalist 2003

Bone day

That day,
when your death became reality,
touchable like my very own flesh.

That day,
the sky wept.

The sorrow of five long years,
came bursting out,
hitting me,
again and again.

What was this sorrow,
my own solitude,
my own sense of loss?

Can't avoid,
the terror,
the fear.
I embrace it,
love it,
at the peak,
of the emotion.

The day they found you,
I dressed in white,
my black tears,
rolling down,
Until transparent.
I knew by then,
I was healed.

The movement 
of denied feelings,
making me
as I sang out
all your names,
in a current of sad joy.

The day they found you,
I dressed in white,
my eyes shining, 
with the whole emotional scale,
my voice transforming,
from hurt to healing.

The day they found your
weathered bones.
I dressed in white,
watered my plants
of sorrow,
with my tears of joy.

previously published in the anthology In our Own Words 1999, Wake Up 2001, and 
in various publications around the world


If you ask me about faith
I will tell you
That my faith has no name
I belong to no church, or religion
Every place on earth
Is my place of worship
All of gods names are my god names
Beyond  name 
It is what it is

If you ask me about where I come from
I will tell you, that I was born on an island
But I belong to all the people that live on this Earth
And all of Earths different places are my home

In my answers I feel freedom
I am no longer caged by nationality,
religion or politics

My home is this planet
And the universe the source of my faith

I am what I am