Spring Melt ~ By ElizaBeth Coira

You can lead a horse to water
But you cannot make him drink
Perhaps he may have just nearly drowned
Perhaps he simply isn’t thirsty
Perhaps the trough is tainted
And his sense far
                        outweighs your judgment
Perhaps he cannot bear to face
The Thought of his own reflection

Sometimes your Down looks Up to me
Sometimes your Up might be my Down
Sometimes the eyes see different realities
We create and interpret
By thought and Heart

But why cling to the things
From far long-gone journeys
So different from paths
Stretched out before thee

The past is the past
Release the old traps
In this changing climate
They’ll no longer feed you

Let your open
                    Kind Heart
                                Lead the way

Afterall Water
Always finds its way Home

Stars will Shine

Moon will Rise

And You


May Bloom

~ My Dear Beloved Friends ~ From ElizaBeth Coira

My Dear Beloved Friends,
What you are about to hear and read comes from a place of profound hurt and sorrow…like an arrow buried in my heart long ago. Do you know how that feels? Do you have any wounds that run that deep? Then you will know why I must share this today…from the beloved depths of my wounded female soul. I share this from a vulnerable place because I can no longer bear the pain of avoiding the things that need to be said. My intent is not to hurt or offend, but rather to hold open the door, for a few new ideas to take root, blossom, flourish, grace this world.

With Love
May We All
Bloom Again

What if Jesus were a woman
Buddha could be She
Would the Prophet Muhammad consent to cover and shut up
How different would the story be

What if Pachamama didn’t mother
But was still deemed worthy
What if Mary, Mother and Magdalene
Didn’t have to prove they’re “pure”

So many appropriations
Uses and abuses
Squeezing in and packaging
Of the female, sex, and role

Now let me tell you something
Boudica was a warrior queen
But we need not all play martyr
March our lives to endless struggle

What if Odin chose not to hang
From Yggdrasil, the great Tree of Life
Funny how it’s knowledge, water source
Was filled up with a great three She

Like Allah’s three wise daughters
Three witches survive in fairytales
Retracted, rewritten by all the wise men
The holy trinity ices the cake

And when I think of rising
Like the moon and sun
I think of the old Easter hare
Goddess Eostri was once known

Ah how quickly we forget
Accept agendas cloaked in “magic”
Mystery and entertainment
Explanations for control

But hey, I don’t know it all
I don’t even know a little bit

But… spirituality, freedom, soaring awareness?
–It doesn’t seem buried beneath subjugation

I tell you, I don’t have to mother
Or adhere to “ideal” lies of “pure”
Consent to lock She and me up
Or the converse, flaunt and flirt

To prove my worth and power
And I won’t let our essence
Be erased, forgotten, without a trace

Nor will I permit the unfit
To primp, puff and distract me
With a pretty dress and penis pop
I’ve no desire to do what’s been done unto me

So stop preaching I handed you the apple
It was your snake who offered the invite, right?
Stop aiming all your venom, blame
These scripts don’t have to pave the way

Social prisons
Hell-bent on control

Crusades, jihad, endless genocide
Was it only Pagans
Obsessed with human sacrifice
Cleansing, creating an apocalypse

And all in the name of WHO exactly
What is it WE’ve been doing exactly
Worshipping, perpetuating
Myth and script, over again

Violence, aggression
Fear and hate
Cleverly disguised

In a “spiritual” compass
Designed to organize
And justify so much
That has nothing to do with LOVE

Unity, our interconnection
All that’s been tainted, incorporated
Subdue the female, slave, and savage
Is it really ok to pillage and ravage?

Is it really US versus THEM?
Must it be ALL or NOTHING?
Are boys and girls really enemies?
How easily our identities are mobilized

We must stay wise, with open hearts
Consider source, and all the filters
What flows, feels right
And what feels forced

Who is indeed
Authoring the story
We are all products
Of conqueror and conquered

I ask again
How would the world be
If Jesus were
A woman

And you may ask
Just who the hell
Do you think
You are–it’s Friday–Freyja’s Day

I’ll just say
I am me
The kid you knew once
Upon a time

That is All
I am me
And I choose
~ LOVE ~

Celebrate! Life & Times at Loon Lake, WA – By ElizaBeth Coira – March/April 2017 Edition

~ Please enjoy my column for the Mar/Apr 2017 edition of the Loon Lake Times newspaper ~

The snows followed us late into February. Who knows what March and April will hold. Will Spring come to visit Loon Lake once more? I gaze out at the wild turkey and wonder what they know. I confess that while many I’ve met around the lake aren’t quite as enthused by their presence, the wild turkey to me are the true embodiment of the spirit of wild survival. I’ve watched a flock all winter long, wander the streets of my neighborhood; seeking out even the smallest morsel of nourishment, even seemingly where there is none. I say a prayer for all, but especially the smallest. I hope they will live to see a new day, to wander the path I’ve dug from street to door. It makes slightly easier going for their sweet, strong feet; and slightly easier foraging, to the fledgling grass below. I don’t mind that my path is littered with their “mines.” I’d much rather see that than no traces at all of their existence…their lovely little lives. It makes no difference to me whether they are “good eating” or not.

Why should I care so much for the turkey? Just as I treasure the towering trees? Why am I thankful for the later, longer snows this year? Perhaps I simply love what is. Perhaps my faith rests in all forms of life. Perhaps I trust that Nature knows more. Perhaps I have chosen to be thankful for all the experiences that define Loon Lake life.

Whatever it is, I still yearn for Spring; though I know she will come in her own time. As we enjoy these waning chilly days, and anxiously await sunnier, warmer ones; I’ll leave you with a poem of the sights, sounds, and season we all long for. May we all indeed bloom, once again, with Spring.

Lake Melt



The fish are waking
To swim once again

The water preparing
To make amends with sun
And run so far
From the icy grip of Winter

The pebbles are yearning
To sparkle and shine

The birds hungry
To dip their feet in time

The deer so thirsty
For their own reflection

And I am longing
To bloom again with Spring

ElizaBeth Coira is a writer, poet, consultant, facilitator, and Loon Lake neighbor. You can enjoy more of her poetry and photography at ElizaBethCoira.com or HomeGrownSojourner.com.

International Women’s Day

Wishing you all a happy and inspiring International Women’s Day!

We the common people–women, men, and children– must unite, rise up against this ugly tide…this shadow of a tyranny that has endured too long. We know it, we hear it, we sense it, we feel it…we cannot go back to the mistakes of old.

I’ll be sharing various pieces throughout the day that I hope you’ll enjoy–just click on the blue linked text to explore further:

Walk A While With Me Friend ~ The Women’s March Comes to Eastern Washington


Thoughts of Wednesday on Sunday


Stand Up Strong Girl






Woman You’re Amazing


Love’s Guidance


May the Sun Set on Hate, Greed, and Fear


F-BOMB — FEMINISM Isn’t 4 Letters


Sending Feminist Aid To France


Shall I


I Cry & Hope For Humanity



Food For Thought




Some Day









Wild Woman


My Mother, My Earth


Light of Love





Where Do We Fit


Listen Child




You’re Better Than That


Don’t Be Afraid


A Call to Civic Engagement

(A Patriot’s Love Song)


#SheMeansBusiness #BeBoldForChange #InternationalWomensDay#WomensDay #IWD2017

Walk A While With Me Friend – The Women’s March Comes to Eastern Washington

Please enjoy my article & photos for the March/April 2017 edition of the
Loon Lake Times newspaper 

Walk A While With Me Friend
The Women’s March Comes to Eastern Washington
Copyright ©2017, ElizaBeth Coira

In the brisk, early afternoon sunshine of Saturday, January 21, 2017 we gathered. We brought out our courage and homemade signs, we pinned on our hopes, and walked side-by-side. Some of us already knew one another as neighbors, co-workers, family, and friends. Some of us complete and utter strangers, were happy to share a moment in each other’s kind company. So many different, beautiful faces: women, men, children of all ages. It looked like America, the country I love, the country I’ve wandered… the country I’m proud to call my home.


We gathered in Chewelah, numbering 125 strong. We gathered in Spokane, 8-11,000 strong. We gathered across the United States. We gathered across planet Earth. We common people came together, for so many reasons, yet united… against the shadow of a tyranny, not fully revealed. But we know it, we hear it, we sense it, we feel it…the worrisome presence of a most unwelcome guest. So many of our ancestors have known it, have fought it; been used and abused, too as pawns. It is the game of the unscrupulous greedy lords, slithering charismatics, self-anointed kings. Can you feel the scraps being tossed at us…while the coffers of elite egos grow ever over-flowing?


Does that really feel like goodness? Does it make you feel at ease? Even at peace with a greater sense of order, justice, or higher being? Does the blame game found on early playgrounds, the bullying, belittling hold appeal in your heart? So many came out to march, to unite, because searching within, their answer is No.

Their answer is No to rule by fear. Their answer is No to control through chaos. Their answer is No to hateful rhetoric, designed to separate and subjugate us. Their answer is No to limiting our freedoms, based on the opinions of only a few. Their answer is No, we won’t forfeit our country, our great democracy of “we the people.”

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