I SURVIVED. I HEALED. I TRANSFORMED.
SO CAN YOU.
My words are for you dear reader
and they will
change us if
we allow the transformation from soul to soul.
"...In blameless, unflinching poetry, Buckner embarks
upon two separate,
yet intertwined journeys,
that of the older woman looking back wide-eyed,
and of the lost, younger
woman groping forward.
The former is a steadfast
linear journey guided by
the heart; the latter meanders and twists upon itself like a snake biting its own back...."
" Devour Spirits if you dare. Elizabeth's poems are brave, dizzying explorations of the counter-culture. She spares us nothing in her unblinking testimony of the drugs and drink she takes.. "
- Deborah Tobola
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POETRY
Floral Familiar
I am the August amaryllis a seed planted in the rocky soil of the seen and unseen world here to experience the cycles of life’s adventures I slumber underground for several seasons Then one spring I grow green sword-shaped leaves that later turn golden brown lie down on the ground and feed the seed now a bulb healing nutrients until late summer when I emerge from the earth like a cerise serpent rising day after day until I burst into a pink cluster of fragrant bell-shaped blooms translucent trumpets that proclaim I am a new woman born of the fire and fuse of nature I follow the light I stand tall in my truth I speak for all who suffer and want to heal I am the late blooming lily I am the Naked Lady
Reflections
After this blood sacrifice on the Angel altar I do not get death disease or detention The portal of transformation opens and I walk away refuse the call become small Twenty years pass before I begin to talk of it Ten more years pass before I begin to write of it Three more years pass before I begin to accept my metamorphosis When I finally write about this blood mystery rite I free myself from this bondage Healing begins The door to creativity opens and I enter I sing songs of sorrow that will free me Silence holds me hostage keeps me clipped-wings-crippled I must share my story re-shape my silence into song Silence is my captor I sing songs of memory I sing songs of reformation I desire the grace of release
Prescient
How to visit your parents in the So Cal suburbs in the ‘60s when you have become a hippie though you have a real job as a social worker with the San Francisco Welfare Department Wear a halter top made of two red paisley bandanas, a long multicolor skirt that falls below your belly button/on your hips lots of jewelry long loose hair and no make-up Because mother forbids you to go into the backyard (What will the neighbors think of us if they see you dressed like that?) you lift from her jewelry box an art nouveau pin of a naked lady reclining on a lily The pin had belonged to your paternal grandmother and after all you were her favorite grandchild You wear that pin before and after the rape one of the few items you still possess from that period of your life a present you gave yourself
Biography
Elizabeth lives in San Luis Obispo, the poems were an opportunity to heal through art, as well as encourage others to find healing in creativity, she says.
​“That’s the beauty of this, is you can get through it,” Elizabeth says. “I did a lot of drugs but I’m still walking and talking. I’m not saying it’s good or bad but it went on when I was in my 20s, and here it is.”
Elizabeth lived in the shadows of danger for most of her life. Her soul was in peril as she spiraled deeper into darkness. Surviving a series of life threatening events, she was finally awakened with the question: why am I still alive? Elizabeth embarks on a spiritual journey with a great purpose: to share her experiences so that others can be inspired to live a better life.
Video
The Naked Lady
Video
Spirits
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