art ~ spirit ~ transformation

e*lix*ir   #14
Ridvan 2022



Our Green Island

Artist Profile

Poems by Tami Haaland
An Interview with Tami Haaland

The Writing Life

Giving Voice to the Dispossessed by Anton Floyd


Poems from the Global Poetry Reading Honoring ‘Abdu’l-Bahá
Imelda Maguire
Anthony A. Lee
Harriet Fishman
Valerie Senyk
James Andrews


The Literary Life of Rosey Pool by Richard Hollinger

Personal Reflections on Bahá’í Texts

Our Verdant Isle by Sandra Lynn Hutchison
The Circle of Existence by Susan Mottahedeh


Our Green Island
Pam Jackson
Nikki Manitowabi


Ruhi & Riaz by Eira

Voices of Iran

The Holiest Part of the Desert by Nava
A New Qiblih by Nahal Lofti


Anton Floyd’s Falling Into Place and Depositions by Jim Burke
The Passing of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá

← Previous       Next →

Ann Sheppard


For the Lost

Lost we are
wanderers in our own deserts

looking for footsteps to follow
not those black tracks
not those muddy bumps
not those bird scratchings

seeing the odd tree, the odd plant
the odd perfumed flower
but not the straight path
where the scent must be of roses

like drunken bees
sensing honey
but not finding
we circle and wind,
wind and circle
and sometimes fall
from dizziness

Who leads?
Who directs?
Who comforts?
Whose hand or robe can we catch hold of
and find our way home?

Not just Master but Servant too
Not just Servant but Master too -

Hovering in a realm all His own
‘Abdu’l-Bahá wears the starry crown
His robe touches earth
His hands link with those of the saints
and his head grazes the edges of divinity

And so many words
profound and wise
and so many stories
and so many images
He has left us

to follow
to try
to follow

to bend our wills our hearts our souls
to follow

March on
lovers of God

the way is open

A Story

Of all the stories
meant to instruct,
there is the one of
Lua, lioness of the Cause
who failed

O Master, she said, do you not know
The foul place you sent me to?

the Master Himself had been there
many times:
airless hovel
sour, sore-covered body
thin palette
the filth -
the extreme need of the man -
And how often He held soup to the thin lips,
washed the wracked face with
water that was as pure
as His heart

This story, a magnet
above others
Lua, the one who faltered
- as I have faltered–
Such squeamishness
In serving a needy servant!

The Master knew and so he sends us
forth, Lua, me, all whose hearts burn
to follow Him, into the pure white flame
of His refining fire.

Valerie Senyk

Bio:   Valerie Senyk received her BFA and MA in Drama from the University of Saskatchewan, Saskatoon, and taught Theatre Arts at universities in Saskatchewan and Ontario for many years.