Bradley Nathan Doolan: November 1977 - March 2018

The Secret Place

I shall walk these streets without you-
no more shall I see your face;
my heart may shift in brokenness-
until I too...have run my race.

You sat in the “Presence of an Almighty God,”
your tears did flow as a river;
your body it shook as by a mighty wind-
an arrow longing to leave the quiver.

You set your sights on heaven above-
before any of us ever knew;
this was your prayer in the secret place
as you- with the Angels flew.

Your prayers were presented one final time-
as the Angels approached The Father:
“It’s a prayer unlike anything we’ve heard-
his pleas just keep getting louder.”

The Father no doubt with tears in His eyes-
in delight looked upon His son:
“This one he’s so incredibly special-
take him home...his race is done.”

In Loving Memory of our Dear Nephew Brad...

Loving you always, Uncle Godwin. (C)


A Brand New Start


I sit here in the “Glorious Presence of God,”

in awe of His Magnificence and Wonder;

my heart before Him is silent and still-

as on the strength of His arm I ponder.


Will our enemies surely be laid to waste

as His word does so clearly say;

those that set snares and evil speakings

will torture be the end of their day.


The one who is prideful and lifted up

and made the world bow down at his feet;

will he be brought down and trampled upon

with only death's horror he's yet to meet.


The one who takes food from the mouth of a child

and leaves the family trembling in terror;

will their flesh deteriorate and fall from their bones

as they admire themselves in the mirror.


The tragedy is such- these things need not be

If only for a change of heart;

His arm can extend in Love and Grace

this can be...a brand new start.


Godwin H. Barton (c)



II Chronicles 20: 15 (KJV)

"...Thus saith the Lord unto you, be not afraid nor dismayed by reason of this great multitude;

for the battle is not yours, but God's."





The words of Esther, as she went by great faith before the king- on behalf of her people: "If I perish, I perish."


Esther 4: 11 (KJV):  All the king's servants, and the people of the king's provinces, do know, that whosoever, whether man or woman, shall come unto the king into the inner court, who is not called, there is one law of his to put him to death, except such to whom the king shall hold out the golden sceptre, that he may live: but I have not been called to come in unto the king these past thirty days.


The lives of Esther's people, the Jews, were at stake- they were about to be massacred in the one hundred and twenty seven provinces of the Kingdom of Ahasuerus. An evil plan devised by a man named Haman- which in its initial stages- had the approval of the king.


A man named Mordecai, raised Esther and played a part in getting her into the position as the new Queen (Esther 2: 5 - 17 KJV). Verse 7 reads: And he (Mordecai) brought up Hadassah, that is, Esther, his uncle's daughter: for she had neither father nor mother, and the maid was fair and beautiful; whom Mordecai, when her father and mother were dead, took  for his own daughter. 


The are a few events which lead to Haman's distaste and hatred toward the Jews- so much so, that he wanted to destroy them all. It all began with his growing hatred toward one man: Mordecai.  King Ahasuerus had promoted and advanced Haman and set his seat above all the princes that were with him. Esther 3: 2- And all the king's servants, that were in the king's gate, bowed, and reverenced Haman: for the king had so commanded concerning him. But Mordecai bowed not, nor did him reverence.


Esther 3: 3,4,5 (KJV): Then the king's servants which were in the king's gate, said unto Mordecai, Why transgressest thou the king's commandment? Now it came to pass, when they spoke daily unto him, and he hearkened not unto them, that they told Haman, to see whether Mordecai's matters would stand: for he told them that he was a Jew. And when Haman saw that Mordecai bowed not, nor did him reverence, then was Haman full of wrath.


This is where the evil plot begins- because Mordecai refused to bow down to man.


Haman convinced the king that there is a people in his kingdom whose laws differ from all the people and that they do not keep the king's laws; therefore, it is not profitable for the king to keep them and Haman suggested, "If it please the king, let it be written that they may be destroyed..." (Esther 3: 8,9) The king agreed.


Word of this came to Mordecai as he sat in the gate of the king's palace. Immediately, he sent word to Esther...and made request of her that she should approach the king and have this decision reversed. At first, Esther hesitated, as no one was to come unto the king into the inner court, without first, being summoned: for if one came into the inner court without being summoned, and the king raised not, his golden sceptre- that one was to be put to death.


Esther 4: 13,14 (KJV): Then Mordecai commanded to answer Esther, think not with thyself that thou shalt escape in the king's house, more than all the Jews. For if thou altogether holdest thou peace at this time, then shall there enlargement and deliverance arise to the Jews from another place; but thou and thy father's house shall be destroyed: and who knoweth whether thou art come to the Kingdom for such a time as this?


Esther responded: Go, gather together all the Jews that are present in Shushan, and fast ye for me, and neither eat nor drink three days, night or day; I also and my maidens will fast likewise; and so will I go in unto the king, which is not according to the law: and if I perish, I perish. So Mordecai went his way, and did according to all that Esther had commanded him (Esther 4: 16,17 KJV).


Truthfully, I do not know where the Father is going to take me with this, but for now, this is what I feel I have to share. It all began a couple of weeks ago when the Father prompted me to read the book of Esther. As I had read, over a few day period, and came to the end of chapter four- the above reference- with each word that I read, in light of Esther's faith and courage- I began to weep, I began to cry. By the time I got to, "If I perish, I perish," I was weeping, crying, broken in the presence of God once again: swept away, and lost in His Spirit- in awe of His magnificent wonder that He would call us to such an incredible, life threatening task, that he may show Himself faithful, once more.


To be continued...
























Happy Valentine's Day!

I pray your love burns as radiantly as the sun- and resonates passionately...with the beauty of every sunset; for now and forever.  I dedicate this poem to a very, very special friend of mine...


Angels Can Be Seen


I stood and stared

into your eyes;

piercing and strong

as fiery skies.


Tears they flowed

as a mighty stream;

again you were reminded

of the miraculous dream.


Elegance and beauty

words fail to describe;

immaculate and graceful

on heaven's tide.


One can only imagine

a treasure to hold so tight;

that true love flows

and fear takes flight.


Maybe for now it is

that you are only a dream;

but dreams come true

and Angels can be seen.


(c) Godwin H. Barton

Photo: Compliments of my nephew, Donald, who lives in Prince George, BC. Thank you!







This is another post from my old blog: "Past the Wall of Tears."  Although I still have access to each post, a lot of the posts from this blog- after a period of time were removed from the main page and archived.  Hence the date of the post, January 30th., 2009- my ten year sobriety date.

I haven't written an entry for each year of my sobriety, but I was reflecting on my ten year celebration- only the second time I took a cake at an AA Meeting. The First cake was at my one year sobriety birthday.  These are two mile-stones that I will never forget; especially the first year- and what it took to get there.

January 30th., 2015, will be my sixteen year sobriety birthday- drug and alcohol free, by the "Grace of God" for sixteen years.  As I reflect on my years of recovery, and again, what it's taken me to get here- I had to re-post reflections on my tenth year.  Here it is...

I wept joyfully as I drove to work today. Today is my sobriety birthday. "Ten years clean and sober- by the Grace of God." Such joy, such fulfillment, such life! Truly, there is no life like it.

The first picture (above) was taken as I was entering my grade eight year (the little guy standing with me is my nephew and great friend, Chris). The second, a complete transformation: the end of my grade eleven year. I began a work out program in grade eleven so that I could get my PE credits for my high school graduation. My weight, as obvious in the first picture, was a real problem. By the end of the year I had lost fifty-two pounds...and to think, this all began with a twenty dollar bet with my grade eleven PE teacher.

This is how I feel about my sobriety: transformed-I'm certainly not the man I was ten years ago. I have experienced significant growth- mentally, emotionally, physically, and above all, spiritually. I have a relationship with the Father (God!) today- that can fully be described as "Best Friends Forever!" I've come to know him in ways that I never knew he existed, and have experienced his grace and mercy in ways that continues to blow my mind. He truly is a God beyond the four walls of a church, and not just one who sits on a throne in the heavens, watching my every move, just waiting to "throw darts of lightning" at me the minute I mess up.

He walks with me, he talks with me. I hear him in the wind and the rustling leaves. He's the hand that causes the trees to sway and the grass to bow. He makes the waters flow so crisp and so clean. He causes every star in the sky to shine most beautifully- and just when you sneak a peek at them, he causes them to "twinkle," just for you! As I'm walking and I say "good-morning" to the singing birds, or to the squirrel that runs across the street or up a is God. He is every where, in every thing; and the most beautiful thing of all, every time the sun shines you can feel his beautiful warmth upon your face: caressing you, loving you. He is so wonderful; so beautiful. When I'm at the beach at the waters edge with grains of sand slipping through my is God. He's the sound of the waves as they crash lightly and softly against the shore. When I think about the beauty and awesomeness of God, I am moved emotionally: I cry. He's so tender, full of grace, and rich in mercy. In the early months of my sobriety, when the pain was too great, and uncertainty and chaos was the torture of my soul, he didn't turn away, but allowed me to be me, and let me go through that passage I needed to go through to get well.

I cussed, I cursed, I swore. I yelled, I shouted, I screamed. I punched, I kicked, and I threw. I blamed. You know what he did? He loved me. He loved me again and again, and again. As much as I fought it and didn't want it, he loved me anyway. A tortured soul full of bitterness, hatred, and rage doesn't want to have anything to do with love. If once there was love and trust that was shattered with death, destruction, and broken promises- love is the furthest thing from one's mind. I could feel his hands wrapping around me, in these my moments of torture. I could feel his embrace when I tried to fight it. I could feel his love when I didn't want it. He sat with me, after I'd just gotten through throwing the biggest fit of rage, and calling him every foul name that I could think of, cursing him, hating him...and he whispered: "Godwin. I Love You."

Oh that the world would come to know such a loving God; such a kind, caring, generous, and compassionate God.

That the broken hearted could know that there is hope. Let this hope begin with knowing that God is everywhere, in everything. He'll meet you where ever you are at. In that deep and darkened room with that needle in your arm. In that back alley as you sit in your unwashed and filthy clothing that you've worn for the past few months- drinking from that bottle of whiskey that you pan handled for. Your family has given up on you, your friends have given up on you. No one wants to have any thing to do with you any more. You're a hopeless case. Guess what? There is love...there is so much love. It's in the winnowing wings of angels that sit at your side watching over you. You wonder why that empty bottle suddenly fell off the table as you were sitting there ready to inject your arm- you are not alone. You wonder why- when there was no breeze, that- that empty, crushed, pop can suddenly came your way. You're not alone.

There is the heavenlies; the invisible. There is the spiritual. There is God. There is hope.

Where do we go from here. Today is the first day of the rest of our lives. There are only great things in store for people like us, because it is people like us that have really learned compassion, love, grace, mercy, kindness, and forgiveness. It is people like us who truly know what it is to walk a mile in another man's shoes. It is people like us who truly bear the gift, the gift of life.

With this birthday I've been given a brand new slate. I started using, drinking and drugging, when I was thirteen. I used for twenty-three years. Today, I am ten years clean and sober. If you add the numbers you will see that there's a perfect balance now in terms of the number of years that I used and the number of years that I've been clean. Taking into account the years from birth, to the time that I first started using at the age of thirteen, combined with my ten years sobriety...this adds up to twenty-three. A totally clean slate, a brand new beginning: twenty-three years of using and twenty-three years clean- a perfect balance.

It's amazing how from death, one learns to live.

In his love and mine,

Godwin H. Barton




Baby Gepi's first night at home.            Opening his Christmas present.             On a weekend trip.


Again, this is a post from my old blog.  This is one of two children's manuscripts that I have completed and will make every effort to publish this year. The story, in its entirety, is absolutely magnificent.  At least thirty of my adult friends have read it and they absolutely love it.  I've also shared it with a couple of classes in the schools in which I work.  Again, the response has been overwhelming and feed back absolutely favorable.

To My Readership: This story initially had been presented in its entirety: however, as it has been echoing very, very strongly in my heart and spirit, I feel I have to remove it. What you see here are excerpts. The direction I am receiving is to send the original story to publishers in the hopes of being published. For those of you who were able to read the story in its completeness, thank you for your loyalty and very positive, and empathetic feedback. The message impedes upon me tremendously, I must send this story to be published. Again, thank you.  The story begins...

Mother's Day, 2002, ushered in a beautiful litter of kittens. "Oh my, look at that one!" Vilma said excitedly as the tiny kitten scurried away from the others. "Grab him and put him back with the rest." For a few seconds he stayed put and then ran off again to forge and explore his brand new world. "Look, he just won't stay still. He's so active." We laughed delightfully, as the black, little, ball of fur stumbled and crawled over his siblings to get away. His small, white paws clawing as fast as they could, accompanied by his very sweet, new born, baby meows. "He has black lips and a pink nose," I observed, cheerfully. Smiling, as the kitten now made his way into the living room, Vilma said, "That's the one I want! I want that one!" Light-heartedly I said, "But he's so hyper. Look! Now he's trying to climb up the side of the couch!" This was one decision that was not going to change. On June 27th, 2002, the baby kitten was on his way to his new home...

...Gepi grew very quickly. Our freshly bought Christmas tree stood in the middle of the living room floor, drying. I walked in from the bedroom as Vilma was in the kitchen. Laughing, I exclaimed, "Look at Gepi!" There he was, half way up the tree, totally sprawled out- two paws stretching to the north and two to the south: flatly. We laughed, as it was such a funny sight. Helplessly Gepi meowed as he looked desperately toward us. I couldn't help but tease him, "What's up eh! Need a hand? Just hanging around are ya!" We treasured the moment some more before we took him down. Excitedly, he ran just as if nothing had happened. "How are we going to keep Gepi from the tree once its decorated?" I asked Vilma. She replied, "We'll figure it out. He's a smart cat and will learn quickly not to touch the tree."

.....One night, we heard cries of such desperation coming from the back door; meows so loud, and filled with hints of agony. Vilma and I looked desperately toward each other and shouted, "Gepi!" We ran to the back door and opened it. Our hearts broke. Gepi came stumbling in- beaten, battered, and torn. His entire body was dripping wet and muddy. Lacerations and cuts covered much of his body, especially his head area...






It's been awhile since I've visited my site- to write.  Life as of late has been very, very great. Except for the sometimes loneliness- driven for the want of a relationship- I find myself in a very good place.  I am quite content and though I most times walk around with a smile on my face and an aura of peace around me- what you don't see is my heart that sometimes staggers in beat  because of the tremendous longing, and desire for companionship- for love.

Over the past six and a half years there have been the "might have beens, could have beens...and the ones that got away," or more accurately, the ones that I walked away from after sometimes the "most incredible connections."  Connections which had me sitting on my couch, lying in my bed, walking, living- as if the other person was already a part of  me- like she was inside of me and was becoming my heart beat.  She would invade me without a moments notice and captivate the entirety of my being and as powerful as it was, I had to believe in those very moments, she too, was thinking deeply about me, missing me as much as I was missing her.  These connections were so strong and driven by such intense emotion- such an incredible longing and a perfect, fiery passion that in those moments she became my world and every image of my heart, mind, spirit and soul was about her.  I heard her voice, I heard her laughter, I rehearsed every conversation that we had- searching for clues.  Clues that would tell me concretely that this was not just an imagination and that it was real.  Clues that would give me the courage to share the true contents of my heart with her- every energy, every emotion, every dream, every passion, every desire- to take that ultimate chance that too many of us have walked away from- to become vulnerable.  These connections were sometimes so powerful that they would make my heart sink, literally, due to the certainty yet the uncertainty.  Many times it was so overwhelming that I would be moved to tears, literally- cry, softly-almost whisperingly- as I would resort to my greatest source, hope, and strength: God.  I would first ask him, "What's going on? Can you help me? Can you help me to sort this out, please?" Through my sometimes tear stained pleas I would continue, "Father, I've let too many go by- I've walked away from too many and let too many walk away. I can't take it anymore. It hurts too much.  Can you help me please? Show me what to do."  The tears would reside. The prayer would end, and I would be still sitting alone on my couch: thinking of her.  Sadly, even after the connection had come and gone. Had I blown it? Was I supposed to do things differently? Should I have struck while the iron was hot?  Did I listen too intently to the words of the wise: "Good things come to those who wait?"

Sometimes I couldn't help it.  It's in the look and it's in the eyes: when we were together and then parted.  It's in the way she said, "Bye! See you later," in a soft whisper and a gentle if she knew that if she sang it- almost magically it would cast a spell on me and bring me back to her.  It was the extended glance that came with it and a slight reluctance to turn away. It's in the way we sometimes hugged and how her hands would slide off of me slowly and the final touch would be the gentle touch of our fingers holding on for every last possible second.  It's in the way that, as we parted, we would turn again to each other just to get one more glance; one more look- one more smile and one more wave.  Then the days would pass...

Living again in the connection.  Rehearsing and living every last moment. Where do we go from here? Hearing her voice, her gentle whisper and seeing that amazing smile that only you could bring out in her.  The phone rings, and you pray for all eternity it is her...







This is an entry from my old blog, which I totally feel that I must re-post.



This is a dream I had the night going into Mother's Day, Sunday, May 9th., 2010.

My brother Hubert (Pops! Short for Popsie- a nickname given to him in his youth) and myself were in a very green, grassy area. The place was surrounded by huge mountains. Pops was laying on his back looking toward the clear blue sky as the sun shone brightly. I was sitting cross-legged next to him. The sky suddenly became dark with a fierce darkness: a darkness so deep, so black, so thick, it was unlike anything that we had ever seen. It wasn't a scary darkness, it emanated in immeasurable strength, power, and glory. Suddenly, there was the sound of thunderous winds, as that created by many mighty wings. The sky grew even darker. As this was happening there was a faint light that encircled my brother and myself. One of our sisters was sitting near by, watching, about eight feet away as this miraculous scene unfolded.

Pops and I looked to the sky. In awe we stared. Flying by the hundreds, even hundreds of thousands, were eagles so huge, vast, and powerful. Their sere numbers caused the sky to darken even more. Against the darkness we could see the silhouetted shapes of these gigantic beings. The length and shape of their wings- impressive, moving with precision, exactness, and presence. Their feathers- some jagged and ruffled, were those proudly worn and told a story of warriorship and victory in battle: they were warring eagles. They were conquerors and undefeatable. They were majestic, and they came from every where.

A huge ball as the shape of the moon appeared. Silhouetted against the light of this object was the upper part of an eagle as it would appear perched on a branch of a tree. Its head was turned to the right. It was distinctive, also powerful, with a beak perfectly defined accentuated in strength, power, and might. Its eyes- piercing and bold. Another eagle flew past, thunderous, glorious, and mighty, and as it did the ball erupted into an explosion of light. The explosion was as a thousand lightning bolts put together that shot blindingly through the darkened sky. As quickly as it appeared, it subsided.

Pops and I sat in great reverence before this scene that unfolded before us. Instinctively, I raised my hands to the sky in adoration and respect- as one does when honoring the Father: King of Kings and Lord of Lords. I began to chant, repeating the phrase over and over again: "Eagle. Come to me. Eagle. Come to me."

I had within me a great expectation. Forming out of the darkness, and coming from directly above me, falling toward me, were two beautiful eagle feathers. They were large and black. Excitedly I exclaimed to Pops, "Oh my God. Look!" The feathers drifted lightly into my hand. Pops and I wondered in amazement. The feathers were over-lapping. I parted them with my thumb against my fingers. There, in the middle, was the most beautiful, pure, white eagle feather that we had ever seen. Perfectly shaped and as white as snow. I looked at Pops and said again with reverence and respect, softly, almost whispering, "Oh my God." Facing Pops, who was now sitting cross-legged as I was, I asked, "Do you want it?" He said yes. I gave to him the white eagle feather. My dream ended.

My dearest brother, Great things are in store for us...and it has "GOD" written all over it!

As I reflect further on this dream, this is what I feel, as I sent further thoughts to my nephew regarding his dad, my brother, Pops:

I love and miss you guys so much! I feel very strongly in my spirit that great things are in store for our family...especially your dad. This dream tells me that as God really begins to do his work in our lives (your dad's and mine), that the heavens- the realms of the supernatural and spiritual, will all be in our favor. As the feather was pure, perfect, and it is to be within our spirits in this place to which God is taking us. Take care and be blessed! Share this also with your dad. Love you!

Poster: Ten Eagles by Gardner. www.people.jmu.edy



My sisters Sharon, Flora, (myself!) and our brother Steven.


A note to friends and family, and every one else whose life was touched by the love, grace, and kindness of our brother Steven.


It is with deep, deep sorrow that we announce the passing of our eldest brother: Steven James Barton. Steven passed away peacefully in his sleep in the hospital in Port Hardy B.C. last night shortly before 8:00 pm. He was one of the most gracious, filled with the "Love and presence of God" men that I have ever had the privilege to know. Though we are a family of believers, and heaven shall be Steven's home, it is still a very, very difficult path to walk. God is still great...and still reigns supreme.


Please keep Steven's sons and his grandchildren in your prayers. We had the honor and privilege to be with Steven and his sons and grandchildren this past weekend; for them, it will be a very difficult and challenging time.


With love and heart felt gratitude: Thank you for your support and prayers.


"Our Loss is heaven's gain."


Sincerely, Godwin, on behalf of the Barton family.



Statue at Stanley Park Seawall: Vancouver, BC  July 2014


Hello Everyone! Wow! God sure knows how to give you encouragement just when you need it the most!


I was running, same place as usual, Rupert Park- same number of times around, seven. I was coming to the end of my final lap and this Filipino man runs past me and shouts, "WHOLLY SMOKES!" I stop to look at him wondering why he's shouting, and what he's shouting at. He's standing there staring at me and shouts again,"WHOLLY SMOKES YOU LOST WEIGHT!" I said, "I did?" He said, "YES! YOU LOST A LOT OF WEIGHT!" I said, "Really?" He said again, very excitedly and happy, "YES! YOU LOST A LOT OF WEIGHT!" He was staring at me in a constant state of happiness and awe, standing there waving his hands and fists in the air and shouting, "YES! GOOD FOR YOU! KEEP UP THE GREAT WORK!" Again, "WHOLLY SMOKES!" I smiled ear to ear and said, "Thanks!" and sprinted the final length of my lap. "Oh what a feeling!" I thought, "Wow, he must really see something and he's really happy for me." I checked my strava app. It timed me at 5.1 miles in 59 minutes and 59 seconds, with an average of 11:47 a mile. That's five minutes faster (shorter!) than my LAST RUN FIVE WEEKS AGO at 5.4 miles! "Wow! He made me feel like a hero!" Now all I want to do again is run! God is so good!


With EXTREME Gratitude!




"...As on the wings of eagles, you'll soar higher and higher."




There's something I've been needing to write (for a long time now!): "To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven." Now seems to be the time to write it, and it all began with this contact email through my website, October 10, 2013:


"Hello! I'm Kaylie from Nipawin Saskatchewan!! Im doing a research for school and I thought you would be the perfect one! I was wondering does any of your songs deal with social Issues? please get back to me ASAP! thanks:) 


This request came at a time when I was questioning: "Gee, is my music even reaching anyone?" Truthfully, it is; as I get contacts and followers (on Twitter!) from all over the world- and locally, people approach me telling me "how much they love my music." For this, I am very grateful.  Yes, I am very approachable and a friend to many.


Before I continue, my deepest apologies to Kaylie and Denise for not publishing this earlier.


To Kaylie: Hello again...I'm sorry I didn't find your email until early evening, yesterday. I don't know that you still need the info pertaining to my music (song) and its relevance to social issues.


Yes, my song, "Who Can This Be" in its structure, message, tone, and effect deals with social issues. I originally wrote the song a few years ago and under a different title. When it came to recording, I felt I needed a song on my "first CD" that expressed the "Grace of God" in my life and the beautiful place I now find myself in, personally (Wellness! Drug and alcohol free now for fourteen years and nine months...and a professionally published musician, poet, writer, and storyteller). To contrast this to where I had come from, you can visit my blog on my website and read the post entitled, "Touched By A Higher Power," which was my first Chicken Soup for the Soul publication and one of many miraculous events that has affected and changed my life. The Great Grace of God in all of this, in all my years of using, and sometimes blacked out states- I never took my anger, rage out on another human being; I always took it out on myself and the environment around me. Even in my (then) drunkenness, God protected me and others in this.


With my CD release and the tremendous blessing that it has been (the entire process and all contributing professionals from the pre-production work to the final mixing- paid for by my producer and the company "Liquid Tension Music"), and reflecting on my journey of recovery- I just really needed a song that exemplified this journey- from death, destruction, hatred, rage, anger, and pain: to wellness- health, hope, strength, happiness, love, joy, inspiration, and peace. "Who Can This Be" became that song.


Two days before going into the studio to lay down tracks for pre-production- I took this song originally titled, "Stephanie: Who Can This Be," and totally scrapped every lyric but kept the chord progression, harmony, and melody. As mentioned earlier, I began to reflect on my life, then, thinking not only on the atrocities of my life, I began to think of the lives of many, many others- both individually and globally, I began to re-write the lyrics. I imagined the times that I had hurt myself while drunk, the houses, homes that I destroyed; the doors that I kicked in and the windows that I broke, smashed, and the furniture that I threw around. I seen the cuts on my hands, arms, and the blood pouring out from the lacerations caused by the sometimes metal, decorated glass. I seen my hurt, anger, rage, and pain- then I remembered the students of Tiananmen Square in China who were mercilessly shot and killed; I began to think of woman in middle eastern countries who were shamed, punished, or beaten, and who sometimes had acid thrown on them if they did not do what their husbands told them to, or, if they were just too beautiful and the husband acted out of jealousy. I began to think of the residential school era and its horrible, lingering effect on my people, the First Nations People. I too am a survivor of the residential school: I know too well of the horrors that took place in these institutions. The beatings, abuse- sexually, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I know too well of the great, great shame and the many little Indian children who did not make it out of these places alive. As I re-wrote the lyrics, these are the images that flashed through my mind: vast devastation, destruction, and death, I thought of 911, and the extreme deathly horror that it was. I thought too of domestic violence against women and how prevalent this is in today's society, and how many of these woman live in fear for their lives and will not tell a soul but unwillingly choose to suffer for fear of death and further beatings. The writing of "Who Can This Be" became a song that I wanted to send out to reach everyone who has ever encountered this type of violence, hurt, destruction, and pain. To let them know that there is hope; that life, and things can change; that life can get better.


As it says in my song description:


“Who Can This Be” a testimonial of the Grace of God in Godwin’s life written also in the reflections of the destruction of nations and peoples through out the world- and to bring and give hope to people who have experienced, and continue to experience abusive, hurtful relationships: "If you think that you're hopeless, with no help to be found- you've been beaten, you've been battered, and there's blood all around. You cry and you pray, looking for the light of day...yet in this deathly darkness, you only seem to stay." The song takes you on a journey of tragedy to triumph- "Your great strength within now shall arise as a fire, as on the wings of eagles, you'll soar higher and higher."


Yes, the song "Who Can This Be" deals with social issues.


I have written to you out of the integrity, humility, and honesty of my heart, I trust that my words are safe with you.


Thank you for contacting me and I pray this for useful.


Thanks again!






Kaylie's response: Wow!! thank you so much!! That helped me a bunch... Thanks again... I will contact you if I need further help but it looks like I won't!


From her teacher:


Thank you so much for sharing your story with Kaylie. She was thrilled with your response!

She will be sharing it with the class along with your song.

I encourage my students to reach out to the people who they are researching.  In this digital age it is so easy to learn from the "experts" so when researching and learning about music why not contact the musicians!

 Again I thank you for your words (they truly inspire) and have a blessed day.

 My deepest and heart-felt gratitude to Kaylie and Denise: "Thank you so much for taking the time to listen to, and share my music and story with others." 

This comes too, as of yesterday, when I was approached by another student from a college here in Vancouver, asking me if I could be the subject of a presentation she's been asked to do: delightfully- "Yes!"


It's my absolute pleasure to help, bring hope, and inspire.


Again, "without you- there would be- no me!"


Lovingly, Godwin.



Greetings! Often, when the journey gets just a little too much to bear- I have to encourage myself:


Very soon, I will be walking with her hand in hand; diamond rings on each of our fingers, cradling our baby as her heart beats against mine- thinking, with heart-felt gratitude and emotion: "It was worth it all; the wait- the sometimes loneliness, and the pain- it was worth it all." Reflecting on, and loving my God with all of my heart. In that moment- hearing the echo of His voice as He speaks softly into my spirit, reminding me: "Hold fast the confession of your hope without wavering, for I, who have promised you, am faithful." (Hebrews 10:23). Even as I write this, my spirit leaps with joy at His goodness...He is so wonderful: God.


It's been five years since I've had the dream- the "Cherry Blossom" tree. It's been five years of waiting and holding on. Five years filled with faith, hope, and believing- battling sometimes the torturous, indescribably aggressive and relentless beasts called doubt, terror, and unbelief as they've tried to tear these dreams apart. They say that the greatest battle you'll ever face is in your mind and by many of my experiences I know this to be true. When my footsteps begin to waver and my path becomes a bit unclear, grace, in all its beauty begins to take greater shape and deeper form reminding me of the promises that I've been given.  At my moments of deepest longing, two times in particular- I was walking, questioning God and wondering, "When Father, when?!"  As I was walking on each of these beautiful, semi- sunny afternoons, with the scents and colors of fall everywhere- light, soft droplets of rain would begin to fall. I'd look up and there they would be: double rainbows, high above me...and His voice echoing again in my spirit: "And two shall be one."  Feeling most specifically that in that moment those rainbows were created just for me in answer to my thoughts.  Again, hope is increased and the strength found to continue yet another day in "the promise."


These are the things that I hold on to. Things that restore, breed hope, inspire, and build. This is just how I've been created: to believe.


Wishing you a wonderful and prosperous day,









Brothers and best friends: Thank you for being there for me!




Through it all; though life was extremely tumultuous at times and all we had was each other- we "all" made it through! Thank you my most loving family! I love you all very, very, very much!


Going deeper into a life of change and wellness- reflecting on the cost, price, and sacrifice- I came across one of my old tweets: "The heart that keeps on giving- no matter how many times it's been broken, is the heart that's going to change the world."


With all my love, Godwin.






Chain Bridge: Budapest, Hungary. 2001.




Some say I live such a charmed life- this may be true, but it came at a high, high price of loss, terror, torture, and pain...and the biggest challenge of all?  Through it all- to find my way back again.  In my recovery, I had to re-live a lot  of the loss, death, sorrow, grief, and pain; the isolation and the loneliness.  I had to express my anger, my rage.  I sometimes needed to curse, cuss, and swear- to holler, scream, and shout.  I had to put myself on the edge of wanting to kill and destroy something and know when to pull back...and in that moment of decision, amidst that great, great pain, to fall on the floor like a rag doll and cry uncontrollably like a baby- sometimes for hours.  Sometimes by myself, in a group, or in the presence of someone I trusted the most.  Someone who I knew would not judge me, someone who I knew would accept me as I am and when all the deathly wailing stopped- would hold me tight, and tell me: "Everything's going to be alright. You're going to make it. You're going to be okay. You will find happiness again."  I thank God continuously for strong people like this, there are many of them out there: there are even angels.  When it was my turn to fight back the darkness...God would put in my path the very ones that I needed the most.  The ones who had already been through the process and were fully equipped for the battle: the ones who knew how to win the war.  The ones who would be my shield bearer, my protector, and my guide.  When it was hardest to receive love- the ones whose love had become so pure that it was impossible to resist.  This love, that would catch my hatred, rage, pain, and anger, and melt its ugliness- and turn it into something magnificently beautiful.  This love that would cause me to see again; cause me to feel again.


Thank you all for "Your Presence" in my life. Thank you for caring. It is my continual delight to share with you truthfully from my heart.  Without you, there would be no me: Thank you!


I don't know where you're at in your life, but do more than just hang in there. Who may have just "One More Bridge to Cross."  Many of us are living proof. I'd never imagined in my wildest dreams I would ever live to say, "Wow! Over fifteen years clean and sober." Really, I thought I'd die in my addictions, but God had other plans.  He just may for you too!


He's so wonderful.


From my heart to yours, sincerely, Godwin.


My words are pure, and they are beautiful, and true.  You don't know what to do with them or how you're supposed to feel.  I see you sitting there as these words circle in your heart and into your spirit.  They cause you to feel energies and emotion so unfamiliar to you.  You question their integrity and motive; yet you feel something, and you know that this something is beautiful.  You hold your phone in your hand, wondering, asking, "What do I say, what do I do?"  Almost sadly, you set your phone aside because for a moment you're lost: it seems to good to be true.


Don't let the pain and the brokenness of the past hold you back or keep you from becoming all that you can be; it is possible to fly.


Sincerely, Godwin. 

Mountain side road at the back of my community: Kincolith.


Hello! I've so much to catch up on! Sorry I've been gone for so long! Busy! Busy! Busy! And yes, I've had some pretty spectacular performances! Singing; storytelling; and poetry! Over the top amazing! Thank you for still being there: thank you for your faithfulness!

Here's a minor miracle in my day: I just had to share it!

I was driving up and down the Drive after having breaky at McDees, Renfrew. I got to the corner of Grandview and Commercial. Listening to my CD, I was just thinking, "How cool is it to get into your own car and plug in your very own CD." Really, it's an amazing feeling! I was alone with the windows down and the music loud: it's a gorgeous, sunny day in Vancouver. I looked up and seen a little elderly lady standing on the corner, who had just come out of Donald's Market. She was carrying two bags and trying to get my attention. I turned the music down and shouted, "I'm sorry. I can't hear you!" She walked toward my car then said, "Hello Sweetie. Can you help me, please? Can you give me a ride home?" At first I'm thinking, "Wow! I'm a total stranger! She doesn't even know me...and walks right up to my car asking for a ride?" Hesitantly I said, "Ah, okay. Sure." She got into my car then said, "Thank you so much! I'm so grateful. I'm having pain in my knee and it's very hard for me to get on and off the bus. You're really helping me." She went on to ask, "Are you a Christian?" I said yes. She said, "Me too! I've been a Christian for twenty years." I said, "Wow! Congratulations!" I dropped her off at her home a few minutes later. Before she got out she said, "Let me pray for you." I said okay. She held my hand and prayed, "Father, bless this young man. Bless him physically, spiritually, and financially." She hesitated then asked, "You have a wife?" "Ah, no." "You want a wife?" "Ah...sure." "Okay. Father and we pray that you would bless him with a beautiful wife. Amen!" She was so grateful. As she was getting out of my car she said, "I'm Italian and I love to cook. You have a phone number?" I gave her my number. She then said, "I cook extra when I cook. I cook for you. I call you and you come to get it, okay?" I said yes. She smiled and said, "Good! I love to cook spaghetti." I drove away feeling like a champion, like a real hero: like a true child of God- again, in awe of Him (God!), and the numerous opportunities he gives us to be kind to other people- even strangers! I'm so blessed- and so grateful!

Cheers!  Godwin. 





Greetings Everyone!

I pray this day finds you all amazingly well! It's been a while since I've been here- too long!

This year finds me back at work again after a year off- a year of rest and relaxation and recovering from the turmultuous waves of the sometimes icy waters.  I have to admit, it was a bit of an adjustment getting back into the routine of things and what's hardest to believe- we started up the school year it seems, just yesterday and already, today marks the beginning of our Christmas break.  From here, we have two weeks off: rest, family, fun, and hopefully- sleeping in (sleeping in is almost an impossibility for me once I'm used to my morning hours).

At any rate, it's my absolute honour and privilege to have shared with you my new Christmas single: "Passion of Christmas." The feed back and reviews that I've gotten from the many people who have heard or puchased the song, again, is phenomenal.  Everyone every where is loving it- and, it's my gift to you: "Merry Christmas!"

Please take care and have a safe holiday!

From my heart to yours, Godwin.




Don't Forget to Dance


Inspiration comes at a time that you least expect it;

suddenly remembering dreams and other things neglected.

The glory rises internally as your spirit sparks to fire-

suddenly you're in a place, not satisfied you must go higher.


Waves they ripple and water splashes against a golden shore;

you hear the lyrics of a song- the angel says there's more.

The melody and harmony an indescribably beautiful sound-

fall like diamonds and pure white feathers, so softly to the ground.


This place was once a hurtful place- of sorrow, grief, and pain;

that held its secrets deep within that would help you smile again.

Through the fire and through the flame smoke tried to blind your eye-

now you're on the other side as your hands reach for the sky.


You're most worthy of every prize and every perfect gift to be;

the poems you write and songs you sing, a light for others to see.

A dove it flies before you carrying most beautifully in its beak-

a fiery rose of passion and the desires that others seek.


Hold not the dream just to yourself for then it falls to the ground;

be willing to give a helping hand and spread the love around.

Sing your loudest, clap your hands- always be ready to take a chance...

Oh yes and always remember: "Don't forget to dance!"


Godwin H. Barton


Picture: (Herd Deers Wallpaper)



Sun set: Historic Steveston Village (August 7, 2013)


The passion, spark- that you're waiting for?  It's inside of you...











I have so much to be thankful for.  I'm sitting here as I see many writers do in many movies about writers that I have seen, typing and re-typing that first line again and again waiting for that sure direction: type, delete, type, delete...type, delete; and finally, the rhythm and the words just begin to flow. Then, you know you've got it.


I've been thinking a lot about my song, "Your Presence" and the very magnificent, powerful effect it is having on a lot of people.  I was recently contacted and invited by the music director of the world's largest on-line music platform to create a profile and up-load my music to their site:  He said that he had had a chance to listen to my music and felt my music would be a great fit for their site, and that they, at ethnocloud "Love my music..."  For this, I am extremely grateful.  With the up-load I had to write a song description.  For "Your Presence," this is what I wrote:


The song, "Your Presence" was inspired by a lovely, young lady friend of a few years ago.  It is extremely passionate- resonating in desire, want, of a seemingly impossible love between two individuals set worlds apart in age: "Well sometimes it seems that we are worlds apart, in the vastness of this time, don't quite know where to start. Oh feel my yearning, hear my cry, just had to come and say hi.  Oh just to be near you, no words spoken, enough to carry me through."  It is a song too, of a deep spiritual connection and effect, which, any time that I have sung it live (as a duet with myself to the CD), women can express their gratitude and appreciation no further than the many tears they cry as they express to me afterward, "That is so very beautiful."  For this I am so humbled and eternally grateful that my music can touch another human being to this magnitude: to the inner most being.  Thank you!


This is what's been fluctuating in my spirit, for days now: the magnificence, magnitude, wonder, strength and beauty of "Your Presence" and how it is reaching the hearts of people.  As many others do when I sit and listen, I too, marvel at this song.  It's captivating; it's mesmerizing.  It's gripping.  I remember when I was first in pre-production and laying down the track, it was just me and my guitar.  My producer said to me: "Just relax, and sing it as if you were singing it in your living room."  I did.  Just me, my emotion, the studio and my guitar.  When I got home later that day and my producer sent me the link to the pre-production work, I kept listening to the song over and over again.  First, it was hard to believe that it was actually me- singing and playing (this seemed like a dream so far out of reach, and something, because of my financial situation, that would never happen!), but greater than this, I kept hearing the sound of keyboards- the sound of a piano accompaniment.  I played it over and over again and even played it for my buddy who was there in the studio with me.  I told him, "Listen. You can hear the sound of a piano...but, you were there. There was no piano accompaniment." He listened and heard what I had heard.  I emailed my producer and asked if he had added an accompaniment and he said no, the track was in its original state.


A few weeks later my producer called me and told me that he had finished the arrangement for "Your Presence."  He called me in to have a listen and to add the vocals.  We listened to the arrangement a few times to get the feeling and do a dry run with the vocals.  Upon hearing the first few seconds I knew immediately that that was the sound I was hearing.  I said excitedly and with great surprise to my producer, "That's it!  That's the sound I've been hearing!  That's the exact accompaniment!"  He sat and smiled, then asked if I liked it. I said, "I love it! I absolutely love it! It's beautiful! Let's do it!"  Then by the amazing, creative hand and professionalism of my producer, and great, great team work..."Your Presence" was born.  And to think, it all started with just three chords that I knew on a guitar: G, A, and D- and an inspiration that birthed some of the most beautiful words that I've ever been privileged to write.  Thank you! Thank you so very, very much!


Here's what one of my dearest friends wrote after viewing and listening to the video on youtube:


Godwin.  I am so blessed by this song, this music, and this video.  Your beautiful smile just brings tears to my eyes. Miss you- love you always- your friend, Elise.


Others wrote and many agreed: "Powerful!"  This says it all.  Again, I am so grateful.


My nephew and his girlfriend when they first heard my music, and this song in particular, the next day he said to me, "Uncle! We sat and listened to your CD when we got home last night and Amanda just cried.  All she could say is, 'This is so beautiful'..."


I sang the song at an intimate gathering at a library event and the lady closest to me wept beautifully through the whole song.  Afterward she smiled the most beautiful smile and said, "Thank you.  Thank you so much...that is so beautiful."


Recently in my home community, Kincolith, on June 22nd, I had the distinct honor of being the main speaker at the "Community Graduation Celebration."  There was about two hundred or more people present.  I opened up speaking on goals, aspirations, hopes, dreams, and desires...then sang "Your Presence."  It was powerful, it was passionate, and it was beautiful.  I was singing in the place where it all began, with my mother and father...with my many sisters and brothers.  I was singing in the place that is my home: I was singing in Kincolith, the place of my birth.  The interesting thing, before this event, due to incredibly hot and unusual temperatures for our home area (even at this time of the year!), way up north immediately below the Alaska Panhandle- I had almost lost my voice.  For days leading into this event I could barely speak, much less in volume without my voice constantly cracking and breaking.  The event was a few days away and my voice grew incredibly worse. I did what I knew would be my only hope and I knew I could not possibly back out.  I prayed.  These are the days that I live for.  The days of the seemingly impossible but with great potential for a miracle.  The event came, I was called to the front, I whispered, "Okay Father, you're on...let's do it."  With no absolute certainty as to how it would turn out or if my voice would return- I took the stage.  I began to speak; I began to sing.  My voice was one hundred percent...I sang, and I say this "ever so humbly and with extreme, extreme gratitude," I sang, as it were, the spirit of my mother singing through me- with the voice of an angel.  I knew it; I felt it: I lived it; I breathed it...every second, every moment.  As the lyrics were flowing from my being more beautiful than the mightiest river to one of the most beautiful arrangements that I have ever heard, in my heart through the entire performance, I was humbly thanking the Father- for His faithfulness.  They felt it too.  I could see it in their faces; I could see it in their eyes; and there was a lady who danced from the beginning to the end- joyfully, and excitedly.


Afterward this other lady came literally, running up to me and said, "Thank you Godwin!  That was so beautiful!  It made me cry.  I cried all the way through, my mother had to hold me.  I could really feel it.  Thank you!"  We hugged.  I smiled at her and thanked her. 


Many came up to me after this performance and one of the greatest was another one of my nephews, in absolute delight.  He hugged, hugged, and hugged me; he could not let me go.  He kept shaking my hand and said, "That was awesome uncle! You nailed it! You're a rock star!  And that story, that was awesome!"  I looked at him and smiled, then said, "Well, getting there...thank you."  He could not contain his excitement, and the encouragement and appreciation that flowed from the many others was priceless. I can't help it, and I say this with a slight lump in my throat and with a heart full of gratitude, it's hard to believe that just a few years ago I wanted to die. Oh, how I wanted to die.  There seemed to be no hope and that things would never change.  I'm glad I didn't die. I'm glad to be alive: to be writing, to be singing, to be sharing, to be loving.  I've learned though, as great and as wonderful as this all is, not everyone is going to accept the love I try to give- and the hand of friendship that I try to extend.  I've learned too, that this is okay; and that  I'm okay. 

 I'm so thankful for this musical journey and all that it has been so far.

Regardless of where this all goes, I'm so grateful- I'm so very thankful.  And to everyone of you who speak to me continuously about "Your Presence," thank you! And I'm so very glad you love the song and it is my true privilege and honor to share it with you.

 It is because of you I write; it is because of you I sing: Thank you!


 Godwin H. Barton













You can steal my affections-

you can take my heart;

you can take the world that I live in-

and tear it all apart.

Somehow through the carnage-

and the wreckage piled mountain high;

I'll find my way back to you...

"I'll never say good-bye."


Godwin H. Barton


Photo: By April Koehler:

My most beautiful mother: Myra Edith Barton (I love and miss you so much!)



I'm writing to you from my home community, Kincolith, in Northwestern BC.  I left Vancouver on Tuesday, May 28th to attend a memorial and funeral in a small community called "Skeena Crossing," a fifteen hour drive north of Vancouver just outside of Terrace.  Since I was so close to home, a further four hour drive north and it had been a while since I had been up this way, I decided to come home for a couple of weeks.  It's so gorgeous here: we're nestled so beautifully immediately below the Alaska Pan Handle and surrounded by mountains, rivers, and nothing but forests.  It's so amazingly beautiful! For me, this is where all life began; this is where I was born.  This is where my teaching, singing, and praying at the table with my mother and father began.  The early 5:00 am starts that dad would have to his day in stoking the fire in the old wood stove- bringing back to life the ambers left burning from the night.  He would add more wood to increase the heat in the house before he woke up all his children.  I always seemed to awaken the same time as him.  I am the youngest.  I'd wake to the sounds of dad milling around in the down stairs area preparing the house for the awakening of his children to face together another day.  Once the wood stove would be burning semi-furiously again and giving off a lot of heat- he would further prepare for his most important ritual of the day.  I'd remove the vent from our upper bedroom floor, peek through the hole...and there dad would be as always: at the little table, right next to the living room window, with the cool-oil lamp lit and his hands folded across his bible- getting ready to pray.  At this point I always made my way downstairs.  If dad was already in prayer- I'd sit quietly next to the wood stove, warming: listening to him; watching him.  Most times he would sense me and call me over.  We'd say a prayer together as we held each others hand warmly on top the pages of his open bible.  He then would say, "Go and get your mother, we'll read to you and you can sing with her."  These were some of the happiest, most precious moments of my life.  They'd fully feed my most curious mind and young soul.  I could not get enough of the bible nor enough of the prayers which seemed to be bathed in such a tremendous peace.


As we sang, and mom sang with a voice of such incredible beauty, she'd say, tapping me on the belly, "Bring it up from here son, bring it up from here.  Really feel it."  Back in the day the Christ Church Choir used to number one hundred or more members- and my mother was one of the key singers.  She sang with so much passion and beauty that the village often requested that she sing solo.  She was always put at the front.  My aunties always so proudly shared these stories with me and told me again and again how beautifully mom sang.  The people loved her.  "Bring it up from here son, bring it up from here...really feel it."  I was so proud and wanted to match her beauty because she just seemed to care so much.  I was happy to sing for her; to sing with her.  One lady asked me recently, pertaining to my CD, "How do you get all that emotion into your voice?" I said, "My mother.  She sang with a voice of such incredible beauty and she taught me to sing.  I do it for honor of her.  When I sing, I can feel her presence.  I see myself again kneeling at her bedside or at the table as we'd sing, pray, and read for what was hours but seemed like minutes.  These were the greatest times of my life."


Recently I was asked to participate in a "Multicultural Mother's Day Tribute."  I accepted.  I sang as a duet with myself to the title track of my CD, "Your Presence," in honor of my mother.  I then read the poem I wrote especially for her.  It was one of the most passionate, most powerful performances that I've ever given as it was the first real tribute I'd ever done in honor of my mother since her passing forty-four years ago.  The response was phenomenal and the people incredibly moved and inspired.  It was the greatest challenge to keep myself from crying as I sang- as I could clearly see, feel, and hear my mother:  "Bring it up from here son, bring it up from here.  Really feel it."  I took all that energy, passion, and emotion and turned it into one of the greatest performances I'd ever given...for you mom: "Happy Mother's Day! Love your son, Godwin" (May 12th, 2013).




No longer sorrow and grief, but an inspiration and a song

many years have gone by, since you've been gone.

The days turned to weeks and the months into years

washing away of pain by drying of the tears.


It seems like just yesterday when by your bedside I would sing

as you encouraged me toward God's love, to be my all and everything.

Though in my childhood I'd have seemed too young to understand

yet I had faith enough, that still God would hold my hand.


God's power, love, and eternal Grace divine

was the message you imparted as this song we sang.

It seemed so in preparation for what was to come

for in a short time I knew not, that your time would be done.


So since by death's door yet into life you've parted

no longer aching, anguishing, sick or broken hearted.

In the years though I've missed you deep down inside

my love for you, for my Lord, I can no longer hide.


In the newness of this life found amidst great pain

reminded further of God's love, by a brother, returned from a plane.

God's Love and Mercy would shine as a heavenly light

my brother, not ready yet, to take his heavenly flight.


Though in our lives dear mother you've been absent from us

Mother, we love you, and by faith no longer fuss.

For we've been promised by God's most reassuring word

that soon we'll be together, for our prayers He has heard.


So mother please forgive me for my anguish over the years

in my love for you, I seemed to cry unending tears.

Now that I've grown in the years gone past

I look forward to seeing you, together, forever at last.


I remember you in your beauty, your life and your love

as your presence envelopes me from heaven above.

If heaven's as beautiful as you are serene

then the love of my savior, I've more than felt, I've seen.


So to you who now are my inspiration and song

soon we too, from this old earth, soon will be gone.

For by death into life or that great trumpet sound

mother, we your children, will be homeward bound.


In memory of our loving mother: Myra Edith Barton

Word Poetry Canada International Peace Festival 2013

University of British Columbia: Irving K. Barber Learning Center

April 4, 2013




I look around me and see the various acknowledgements that I've received as a poet.  There are the very beautifully printed and framed "Certificates of Appreciation" that I've received through "The World Poetry Reading Series and Radio Show" as well as a very beautiful bronze medallion that I received as I was preparing to go to Vilnius, Lithuania, for a major literary seminar.  The medallion reads: "World Poetry Ambassador To Lithuania: Godwin Barton 2009".  Through this same reading series is the above award of recognition:  "Empowered Poet 2013 Godwin Barton".  Then, there are the many very professionally made posters featuring my photo and biography through the "Poetry Around the World" reading series which are stored nicely in a drawer awaiting the day that they shall be framed and hung in a very special place.  In my dream, I imagine a room of accomplishments which shall feature these awards.  There shall also be a large framed photo of my first CD, "Godwin Barton: Your Presence" as well as some of the photos from my first three hour professional photo shoot surrounding the making of my CD and recording sessions.  Then there's the "Chicken Soup for the Soul" publications.  My first, major, literary accomplishment: What joy I felt at this time- and the peaceful tears of gratitude that flowed.  It was such and amazing experience.  I shall print the covers, enlarge the photos...frame, and they too shall have their place in this room of accomplishments.  


I look around me and I realize that I have not given myself enough credit for these achievements, for these accomplishments.  In my heart, truthfully, I belittled them, I under-appreciated them.  Why? Because in the face of all these accomplishments there has always existed a certain presence of pain, of loss, of sadness: there has never ever been that truly someone special to share them with (who came with me to these events...) and my family have never ever really attended any one of the functions to which I have been a guest, or a presenter.  They have, however, acknowledged my success and have many, many times congratulated me and told me  how proud they are of me.  For this, I am thankful.


I came to this realization because in church this past Sunday, during our Adult Sunday School Class, the teacher, an accomplished author and professor at a local School of Theology, said while he was presenting his latest publication: "I realized after publishing this book, that I really need to believe in it! I really need to believe that what's been written is of value to me and to anyone else that may read it.  It is meaningful and if the publishers, editors and everyone else involved seen it as important and meaningful enough to publish than I too must feel and appreciate it the same way."  He went on further to say, "I realized that I wasn't giving myself enough credit for this tremendous accomplishment.  It is important.  It does matter.  And I've got to really, really believe in it!  I've got to really, really believe in myself and my accomplishments!"  The thing that stayed with me so strongly?  "I've really got to believe in it, believe in me...and promote it!"


Poetry does matter, and through the power of words does change the hearts and minds of people.  My poetic achievements and awards are significant, they do matter, and are very important.  I cherish them, I appreciate them: I love them.  I am so thankful.  I am a singer, a songwriter, a storyteller and a poet: I write words that can change the world one person at a time.  I am a powerful and beautifully created human being.  I am gold.  I am precious gems, jewels, and words are magic.  From my heart to yours...Godwin H. Barton


My Prayer: Peace, Unity, and Love


It seems a prayer we're searching for, to ease heart ache and pains

looking for a sure direction, to turn loss into gains.

Looking for a path to walk, not laid with thorn or brier

seeking help to spread our wings, that we can go much higher.


I pray for you the strength of God, in the thundering of the sky

the enormous energy of lightning bolts, when all you do is cry.

I pray for you the peaceful streams, that flow quietly through the fields

when you're faced with life's turmoils, and everything that it yields.


When you're lonely and all alone, I pray for you a friend

a loving hand for you to hold, to be with you to the end.

When the path's too torturous, and the miles too long to walk

I pray for you a true companion, who'll listen when you talk.


When you're weak and faltering, under life's tremendous pressure

I pray a heart is sent to you, that's loving without measure.

When you've done the best you could, and you've no more to give

I pray you see the joy you've given, and helped another live.


Most of all I pray for you, many angels at your side

that walk before you and behind you, to be your unfailing guide.

Receive the strength of the eagle, as it circles from above-

hear the song that it sings...of peace, unity and love.


Sincerely, Godwin H. Barton










Village Dock. My home: Kincolith, BC


Hope: Such a powerful four letter word. Something, in spite of the "seemingly" lack of progress before me has me seeing deeply into the realms of the supernatural and the spiritual and seeing things as they really, really are: progress- great, great progress.


I remember before I was published in the "Chicken Soup for the Soul" books, I received a call from one of my nieces.  She said, "Uncle! Congratulations! You've been published in Chicken Soup for the Soul!"  I'm like, "Aaaah, okay. Thank you? But I don't think so..."  She was totally insistent, very adamant, "No! You have been! I've seen the book and read the story! It's yours- and it even had your name on it!"  "Uuuummmm...okay. Thanks again? But I don't think so."  She continued, "I was so proud- this is my uncle, Godwin!"  I told her, "I think you might be mistaken or it's possibly another Godwin Barton- I've never submitted anything for publication to Chicken Soup for the Soul."  She then told me that she would look for the book again, buy it, and show me the story. She searched, she couldn't find the book nor was there any story.  Needless to say we both thought this was a very, very strange occurrence.


I took this as a sign, "Well maybe, just maybe, one day I'll be published in the Chicken Soup for the Soul books."


Some time later I decided to browse the Chicken Soup site.  I read through the many pages, reading stories and  story submission requirements.  There was a call out for stories for an edition called "Chicken Soup for the Recovering Soul."  Reflecting on the novel that I'd begun many years ago and on one particular chapter, I thought, "I have the perfect story for this..."  I took that chapter, read and re-read it, and did a few edits until I felt it was perfect and could be edited no more (I also had to get it down to 1200 words while maintaining the strength and integrity of the piece).  Upon the final edit and feeling it like I've never felt it before, I knew it was done.  My now ex-wife came and read the piece before I sent it.  She said, "Wow! That's powerful, and beautiful."  I said thanks, then sent it out.  As I submitted the piece I remember thinking, "Okay niece, your uncle is about to be published in Chicken Soup for the Soul- just as you had seen."


Within a few weeks the publishers got back to me and within five months "Chicken Soup for the Recovering Soul" was released, and I was in it.  "Godwin Barton: Touched by a Higher Power."  I guess God in the generosity of His Heart thought this wasn't enough so He placed it upon the editor's heart, "Let's contact Godwin one more time and see if he'll allow us to use a passage of his existing story as an inspirational quote for the soon to be released Chicken Soup for the Soul: Daily Inspirations."  A few months later, "Chicken Soup for the Soul: Daily Inspirations" was released and I was featured on page 30- there is a page for each day of the year.  The date, January 3oth.  When asked by the publisher why I chose this date I replied, "It's my sobriety date.  The day that I cleaned up my life- by the "Grace of God," drug and alcohol free."  They were pleased and gave me this date, specifically. 


Prophetic events and happenings? I totally believe in these; for these have followed me all the days of my life. 


A man turned to me in McDonald's about a year ago.  He was standing at the counter waiting on his order.  He turned to me and said very excitedly, "Hey! How are you?!" "I'm fine, thank you...and how are you?" He replied with a smile that lit the entire room and with so much happiness and joy, then said, "I'm fine!" He stared at me for a few more seconds before saying quite loudly, "You're famous!"  I'm like, "Aaaaaah....okay, I'm famous? I don't think so."  He said, "No! You are! You're very famous! I was reading about you in a magazine the other day. It was quite an interesting article about you and it had pictures of you!" I'm like, "Noooo.  I've never been interviewed by any magazine and I'm definitely not aware of any pictures taken of me for any magazine."  He said, "It was you! It's still fresh in my mind. You look just like you do in the pictures!"  Thoughts of my Chicken Soup experience began to echo in my soul. I then thought, "Okay, this guy says I'm famous- then I'm famous."  Still smiling ear to ear and extremely happy to meet me he said again, "You're famous!" I looked at him and smiled, then said, "Okay...I'm famous." I asked him his name, formally introduced myself, shook his hand and he left.  I walked out of McDonald's and said in my heart, "Okay God. You say that I'm famous...then I'm famous."  I've never seen this man again.


Prophetic happenings? God has dealt this way with me all of my life- in visions, dreams, happenings, and events.


Still, a few weeks later I was doing a presentation to a grade seven class at an elementary school.  One of the kids shouted respectfully, "Godwin! I was reading an article about you in a magazine recently. They also had a lot of very nice pictures of you."  I looked at him and smiled, "Thank you.  I agree and accept that, but I've haven't been featured in any magazines to date." Like the others before, he was one hundred percent certain it was me.


When things don't appear to be moving before me; I look into the realms of the supernatural and the spiritual.  There are always great and mighty things happening there.


I don't aspire to be famous- I just long to share beauty, honor, strength, and hope with the world.


I hope you are well and that everyone dearest to you is in good health. 













Poetry And Roses


There are roses of yellow

pink, white, and red;

Sometimes a mixture of colors

so beautifully bred.


Accentuated by lovely

radiant leaves of green;

have even a protector-

in thorns to be seen.


A language of eloquence

is what they speak;

when you can't find the words

and your spirit is weak.


Of beauty, truth, and honor

and great humility too;

speaking the "Language of Love,"

is what a rose will do.


If all that burns within you

is of passion and desire;

its fiery red petals

are symbolic of this fire.


In insatiable want

and the inferno won't heed;

the powerful red rose

is what you will need.


Standing alone

or in a beautiful bouquet;

roses carry such power

in all that they say.


Forgive me if it seems

that I am out of line;

here's a beautiful red rose:

"To your heart- from mine."


Sincerely, Godwin H. Barton









Native American Heritage Month 2012

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For Native American Heritage Month 2012, the Maynard Institute for Journalism Education website celebrates 30 individuals.

The lives of these Americans are worthy of celebration and further study, which our short profiles hope to encourage. The women and men included are writers, editors, journalists, publishers, trailblazers and change makers. They remind us of the rich contributions Native Americans make and have made in the world of words.

This is by no means a definitive or exhaustive listing. It’s a starting point for learning, comment & discussion during Native American Heritage Month, when our nation pays a little more attention to issues of diversity. Be heard. Tell us what you think and what we can learn by sending a message to

Godwin Barton

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Godwin Barton
Saturday, November 3, 2012


Godwin H. Barton, First Nations, is originally from Kincolith, a community in Northwestern British Columbia, Canada. A writer of poetry and prose, Godwin has published an inspirational story "Touched by a Higher Power" in the much acclaimed "Chicken Soup for the Soul" series. His poem, "An Eagle Powerfully in Flight" was published in the anthology "Island Skies," Canada. Poems, such as "Today I Caught Diamonds" and "Inside of Me" are inspirational lines that for Godwin balance the craft of writing with the inner emotions and feelings. Godwin has also had the honor of delivering the opening blessing, by way of poetry, at “World Poetry Gala Events” hosted by the Vancouver Public Library.  As well as being a passionate and devoted poet, he has also been referred to as a “Master Storyteller.”

Source: - Revolutions Per Minute: Indigenous Music Culture - Godwin Barton

My Great Friend's new grandchild (six weeks): She's absolutely adorable!


I have a family who have been a great and significant part of my life for the past thirty years.  The mother, a woman of great integrity, strength, beauty, humility, and grace- and a huge pillar of love and support not only to her children and grandchildren, but to me also- has been the greatest example of unconditional love and acceptance in many of our lives and continues to be so.  Having now lived a life of sobriety herself for the past thirty-seven years, she continues to be a beacon of hope and inspiration to everyone that comes into her path.  She's one of those people that, when she walks into a room, the entire room lights up and everyone is irresistibly drawn to her.  Everyone just has to be near's her aura, her persona, her light, and her life.  Perhaps, when we became partners in October 1983, two months after we met- this is what drew me to her most.  Her beauty, her life; her happiness, her joy.  Her exuberance.  She just had this way of making everyone feel comfortable and welcomed.  She had this way of making you feel like you were the most special person in the world.  She was like magic- and in the words of a song- a breath of spring to chase the blues away.  She just impacted you, beautifully; and everyone literally, fell in love with her.


We had enrolled in an educational program which had about thirty participants, and, although our instructors, professors, came from UBC, the first two years of our training was done at an off campus field center in Chilliwack, BC.  It was one of those older, younger relationships: she was nineteen years older than me, but she sure didn't look it!  Sobriety, as the bible says, "I will satisfy thy mouth with good things and restore thy youth unto thee as the eagle's," has this way of taking years off one's looks, and making them look incredibly younger, and adds years to their life.


Our sobriety has not come in our own strength or anything that we have done- it is all a gift from God.  She reminded me constantly in my early years of sobriety: "Always remember, by the Grace of God, go I."  Yes, when achieving sobriety and learning to live one day at a time, we had to fight major battles at times, mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually- especially when dealing with the unresolved sorrow, grief, pain, loss, hurt, and abandonment.  We had to learn that it was okay to be loved- and to allow people to love us.  We had to learn that we weren't bad people.  We had to learn that there was a true, heart-felt, unconditional love that existed.  This love wasn't manipulative, self-seeking, or hurtful.  It was not deceptive or deceiving.  It did not operate for personal gain.  When it comes right down to it, having learned many priceless lessons in this road to sobriety and wellness, the youth achieved is because of the inner peace found through the courage to get well, and to face one's inner demons; learning to let go and to let God.  Learning to love, heal, and to forgive.  Going back to my lady, her age didn't matter because I wanted her- and as far as that goes- age is just a number: it is the state of the heart, and strength of the spirit that matters most.  The things which are internal.  More than this, I wanted what she had.  She had life- vibrant life! And energy...lots of it!  I had seen the magnificence of her heart and the beauty of her spirit.  She glowed, and everyone wanted her.  She had sobriety, at this particular point in time- seven years. When I won her, the hearts of a few men were broken- the hearts of other younger men and especially men her own age who really tried for her- professors and instructors.  I came gently to her side, befriended her, smiled at her, made great conversation (flirted!), and won her.  It had a lot to do too, with that first kiss at a party that many of us were at.  In the morning, I tried to leave- but she wouldn't let me without kissing her one more time.  Being sometimes study buddies helped a lot too, as we got to know each other more personally and intimately.  Not to mention she thought too, that I was incredibly good looking, handsome, articulate, intelligent- and like her, fun to be around (Ahem! I say this all very humbly for I am very grateful for the Father's Grace toward me in the talents, gifts, and abilities that he has blessed me with).  Our relationship lasted for thirteen years.  We parted in April of 1995.  Today, we remain great, great friends.


I feel as I've recounted the path to sobriety and the great example that this great woman set, how it came about- it is largely because of the "Power of Love."  Love in its purest form: unconditional, graceful, and accepting.  Which brings me back to the picture of the baby.  Here is another amazing story of the "Power of Love."


You know how babies can cry, especially new born babies.  Well, the one above is no different.  You know too, how they can cry incessantly and sometimes scream at the top of their pretty little lungs.  Screaming their little heads off: you've fed them, you've changed their diaper, you've cuddled and cradled them, you've burped them- but still, there's no comfort.  You rock them, you sing to them; they cry harder, scream louder, and cry longer.  You walk with them, speaking to them with soft, loving, and gentle words.  Their beautiful little faces turning beat red with the force of their cry.  Their little hands and feet kicking, non-stop.  They scream at the top of their pretty little lungs fully announcing to the world that they have arrived and that they are here to stay.  They just won't stop crying...(Oh Father! I am soooo ready for fatherhood!  Please, send me my wife- the mother to be of my child, this child that I want soooo badly!).


Then the older grand-daughter, holding the baby with the agonizing, gut-wrenching cry, says, "Papa, watch this."  She reaches for her iphone and plays Jennifer Rush's, "The Power of Love."  She places the phone close to the baby's ear.  As if by magic, pure magic...the baby's eyes widen, in awe, as she stares into space as if she is hearing, or seeing an angel, or witnessing the most beautiful thing on earth.  Peace and tranquility over take her.  In a few seconds her excessive cry turns to a slight whimper.  In a minute, she is silent.  Her body totally still as if in absolute reverence to something great- to something beautiful.  In the tininess of her heart, her spirit, and her soul- she has felt the touch of something amazingly beautiful.  She has felt, in the expression of song and the beauty of voice: "The Power of Love."  Within a few minutes, she is sleeping.


Her mother, from the couch lets out a laugh of amazement and exclaims, "It works every time!"


Simone, and her..."The Power of Love."  God bless you baby, and keep you safe all the days of your life!


Sincerely,  Godwin. 


Trakai: Castle on the lake (Europe: A few miles from Vilnius, Lithuania)


Greetings Everyone!


I just had to come in today, this, the anniversary of my "Fourteenth Year of Sobriety," and share with you some of my "experience, strength, and hope!"  

Sobriety, and a life of "True Happiness is Possible!" Of course, it's not without its bumps in the road, deep dark valleys, many mountains to climb, endless tears to cry, excruciating moments of pain, still- experiences of abandonment, loneliness, and isolation; but, guess what?! It truly is a life worth living! In the end, you really do come forth like gold! Much stronger, much more pure, radiant, and able to win any battle no matter how great the war! You are on the winning team! You are victorious! You are a champion! You will make it! Any, and all things are possible! Your dreams will come true!


Here is a quick note that I sent out to my few hundred friends on facebook (still praying for the thousands and possibly, millions! No dream is too big to achieve!):


Greetings Everyone! I "Hope and Pray" that you are all well this fine, fine day. Me? Very, very well and extremely grateful. Today is my "14th. Year Sobriety Birthday," by the "Great Grace of God." I am soooo thankful! If ever you're wondering if it's a life worth living- yes it is! If ever you're wondering- does the fun stop? No, it doesn't! It just gets better, and, you remember it all! "Life really, really just begins and takes you on journeys and experiences beyond your greatest imaginations and expectations! It will take you beyond anything that you could have ever asked or thought!" It all begins with the first step, and: "One day at a time..."


*Sighs* Now, if only I could find true love, this is what I am searching for (Is it too much to ask? Hhhhmmmm.)


This Love of the Most Beautiful Kind


I've been praying for, and searching for-

the most beautiful love that I can find;

of eloquence and elegance-

it's of the purest kind.


It's of the greatest courage, and humility of heart

the greatest winds, rain, and storms, couldn't tear it apart.

When it walks the torturing flames, and glass beneath the feet

it's proven tested, tried, and true: it does not know defeat.


Its greatest strength is true intention, forgiveness, and honesty

there's nothing that it can not bear- its armor- integrity.

It rides a horse with flaming sword does valiantly in battle

it always gives the "Victory Shout!" there is no pointless babble.


It protects the heart at any length, giving in sacrifice

it will take the arrow and the sword- and pay the highest price.

It is not boastful, proud or rude, nor comes to those only- who deserve

but finds the deepest, darkened heart- and faithfully begins to serve.


When praying for, and searching for-

this love of the most beautiful kind;

graciously, and unexpectedly-

your will surely find!


From my heart to yours, and to my future love (who ever you are)...I wait patiently for you.


Sincerely, Godwin H. Barton





My Christmas Tree!


Greetings everyone!


Every year, even as a single person, I decorate and put up a Christmas tree.  Last year I was having a bit of a difficulty getting into the Christmas spirit.  After a brief visit with one of my principals, on a casual and friendship basis, she said, "Oh come on Godwin! It's Christmas! Everybody decorates on Christmas! You have to!" So, given that bit of inspiration and encouragement I went home and I decorated.


I'm reminded of a Christmas- if I remember correctly, it was the Christmas of 1988.  I was still in my addictions.  You know, still drinking and partying and partaking in the other things that go along with this type of lifestyle- and although I didn't give it a full heart of acknowledgement, living in a world of brokenness, heartache, and pain.  Given however, the appearance of stability in my life with work and looking after myself, no one knew the fullness of the brokenness and pain that I really lived in- the loneliness.  This which was becoming more real as I sat in the quiet, dark corners of my room- alone- with just a glass of rum and coke in hand and a narcotic to induce a perceived sense happiness.  When people spoke of me they spoke very highly and always had nothing but great things to say about me.  Sometimes I'd just stare at them and the people they were introducing me to, and thought, "If only you knew the truth..." (Thinking on my loneliest moments and the amount of time I spent alone...and the many nights I was beginning to cry myself to sleep- and I never really understood why, or what was happening.)  Going into this particular Christmas Season I thought I'd try something different.  Come my Christmas break- for the one week before Christmas, I would not touch a drop of alcohol nor take any drugs of any kind.  For the week, I would stay clean and sober.


I was searching for the experience of the old "Dick and Jane" books that we used to read in elementary school many, many years ago.  The big beautiful house with the white picket fence, who, with the family at Christmas was a time always filled with merriment, happiness, and joy.  Who, when they decorated and put up their tree, did so on Christmas Eve and Christmas was always a magical time of the year.  This is how I remember the Dick and Jane books: family, love, togetherness, and magic.  I thought as I told my girlfriend Phyllis, "I just want to see if there really is such a thing as Christmas magic; therefore, I have decided not to drink or drug this Christmas holiday.  I want to keep myself clean and open to anything that might possibly happen."  I further said to her, "Do you remember those old Dick and Jane books we used to read in elementary school, come Christmas, it was always a magical time of the year?  Well, I'm not going to decorate until Christmas Eve...and see, if it really is magical."   


Many hours later the decorations were all up.  Phyllis' daughter had left to meet some friends.  Phyllis and I sat on my couch and stared at the fully decorated ceiling.  It was beautiful, vibrant, and alive.  The red, gold, green, and silver garlands accentuated by hanging glass globes at the end, emanated the beauty of Christmas.  More glass globes, shiny, and of the most vibrant of colors, in various sizes were bundled together and hung between the sparkling garlands at various lengths.  There were balloons, also in bundles and the brightest of colors, perfect in size to give the feel of a party flare.  It was beautiful.  It was late and Phyllis was tired.  Rather than make the trip back to her home she decided to spend the night.  It was about eleven o' clock.  She invited me to bed but I declined, as I just wanted to sit and admire the beautiful Christmas decorations.  Christmas music was playing low on my stereo, with a panel that lit up with red and green lights and added to the beauty of what was turning into an amazing Christmas Eve.


Phyllis was asleep in the bedroom, and in the peace of the night- I had fallen asleep on the couch- face down, laying on my stomach.  There was no one else around; no one else in the apartment.  It might have been around 1:00 am.


Suddenly, as if a huge, warm, droplet of sunshine had fallen on me- I was awakened to a very soft, beautiful, touch...on the top of my head.  It was real; it was tangible: it was a physical touch.


My eyes opened and I can not even begin to describe the beauty and the warmth that began to flow through me.  From the top of my head and as it flowed very tangibly and noticeably through my body- it sat me up.  It flowed it seemed a section at a time as I could physically track its path through me- through each body part.  As it flowed it became warmer and warmer.  A beauty that at one time I could have only imagined.  It seemed to melt me as it flowed; my tears began to flow.  I began to cry.  Not a sorrowful, hurtful cry, or that of self-pity.  It was a cry, a gentle weeping of something extraordinarily beautiful: a cry that I'd finally found something that I had been searching for all of my life: Magic.  As the experience continued I heard so loud and clear in my spirit, "It is the time..." Repeatedly, in my spirit, the phrase echoed, "It is the time..."


Phyllis awoke to my soft, gentle cry, and came out from the bedroom.  She knelt before me, and holding my hands asked me if I was okay.  I said, "I'm fine.  I just had the most incredible experience ever.  I can't fully describe it in all its beauty, but it's amazing."  I told her in full detail about the touch, the warmth, the beauty and the voice.  Through tears, and already in the great expectation of life, hope, and joy- I told her, "And in my spirit, I keep hearing the phrase: it is the time."


She smiled at me that amazingly beautiful smile that if you could see an angel smile- you'd think she was an angel; her eyes too matched the beauty of her smile with a slight sparkle that exists in the eyes of angels.  In her soft, compassionate and loving voice, she said, "He knows you're ready.  God knows you're ready," and left it at that.


Thus marked the beginning of my "Incredible journey toward wellness; my incredible journey toward healing; my incredible journey toward love."


Christmas Magic?  It does exist; I found it...


Sincerely, Godwin H. Barton


Me! (Godwin) and one of my nephews.  Christmas at home: Kincolith!


Greetings everyone!  This photo was taken Christmas 2008- my last Christmas at home.  For the past couple of years I had been Santa at one of my elementary schools (for the kids and staff!) so I purchased this Santa suit.  I wanted a suit that would resemble, as closely as possible, the absolutely "authentic and vibrant" Santa that you often see on the side of Coca-Cola trucks at Christmas.  I found it! 


It was interesting how this all came about.  I had a lady friend visiting me one afternoon at my place- as she sat on my couch and I was on my computer, she said out of the blue, "Godwin, have you ever considered being a Santa? Given your personality and people skills, I think you would make a great Santa."  I smiled and said, "Me? Santa? No, I've never considered it."  She then said, "You should."


The following Tuesday I was at an inner-city meeting at my home school.  The topic of the school's Christmas Pancake Breakfast came up, with the statement, "And we haven't had a Santa for the past two years either..."  Looking at me all at once, the five staff members smiled, then asked: "Godwin?"  "Aaaah, yeah?" With smiles all around the table one said, "Come on Godwin, you'd make a great Santa."  Thinking on the conversation I had just had a few days earlier with my friend, I thought, "This is NOT coincidence!"  I accepted, and a wonderful, fun-filled experience it was! Especially for the kids.


This particular Christmas at home, only one of my family knew I was bringing my Santa suit with me and I asked her to keep it a secret- that come Christmas day I would make my short, five home "Surprise Santa Visit" to immediate family.  Needless to say they were pleasantly and excitedly surprised as I made my way to their homes carrying my bag of gifts and shouting "Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!"  The smiles, laughter, fun, and family photos were amazing!


Twenty-five homes plus later...I finally finished my tour as everyone else who seen Santa walking the streets of the village, more than excitedly and happily invited me in.  It indeed was one of my best Christmases ever.


Here are the lyrics for a new song that I wrote about three weeks ago for a major Christmas event that I will be performing at: Enjoy!


The Passion of Christmas 


It's that time of year again

when all the voices in refrain;

sing joyously in Christmas cheer:

Christmas time is here.


It's more than just a Christmas tree

it's what my Lord has done for me;

He's the star shining bright in the night-

and the beauty of every Christmas light.


He's the gift wrapped most beautifully

the giver of life to you and to me;

how he came from heaven above

to fill us with his great love.


I'm so glad that you're here by my side

to share in this love too beautiful to hide;

burning brighter than the candle's flame

causing me always to whisper your name.


Let us cozy up next to the fire

let the passion of Christmas bring us higher;

traveling on crackling sound

the beauty of Christmas all around.


It's Christmas time again...


(C) Godwin H. Barton



The creek area at the back of my home community: Kincolith.




I know that I said that I'd post part two of the previous post- expounding on the life that I now live in, and feel- again, so vibrant and so alive: the greatest I've felt in the last seven years.  It really does have a lot to do with the new church I'm attending and the many new friendships I've made and again, stability in my spiritual life and connection.  This post in a way does tie into that as I'm going to reflect on an event we attended last night as a part of our church program.  The flyer read: A Timely Invitation To A...Special Movie Event: "In Time".  Yes the movie, titled, "In Time" was just that- as it depicted a futuristic society that used time as currency.  The more time you had- the longer you lived.  When your time expired, you "timed out," you died.  Given this, you can begin to imagine the many scenarios that would make such a movie very interesting and worth seeing.  In the words of the synopsis: "In a future where people stop aging at 25, but are engineered to live only one more year, having the means to buy your way out of the situation is a shot at immortal youth." 


Echoed throughout the movie and in our discussion afterward, is the question: "How much time do we have?"  The answer: "We have a day; but you can do a lot in a day."  This really got me thinking as the two main characters always seemed to be fighting for time and literally, for their lives as their time came down to minutes and sometimes, seconds.


We were asked, "How would you live today- if all you had was today, the next twenty-four hours.  What determines what you would do, or how you would live?"


Immediately I thought about the past seven years of my life in terms of the loss, death, sorrow, grief, and pain; and how death coming so quickly has put me in full remembrance of the importance of life, and living: it is a choice.


I thought in terms of the accumulation of years and the attaining of wisdom through experience, that how I live my life today is in direct correlation to how I lived my life yesterday.  Those things that happened or didn't happen; those things that should have happened- but I let pass by.  Those things I wanted to do but didn't do- or to say and didn't say.  Today is another opportunity to make these things right.


If how you live today is in direct correlation to how you lived yesterday- and you are sensing a bit of a loss- did you "spend time" doing those things that you love doing the most- those things that make you the happiest.  Did you "spend time" with the ones that you love the most, the ones that are the most important to you...and many are just a phone call, an email, or a text away.  I'm recognizing in my personal journey that my today is in direct correlation to how I lived my yesterday: that how I choose to "spend my time" is a reflection and a motivation, of my loss of yesterday.  How much I value and use my time today is directly related to my experiences of love, joy, loss, and pain.  I've come to realize the obvious- to live is a choice- to be happy, is a choice.  Sometimes when I'm feeling down I'll go for a walk and buy someone a coffee or lunch, and nine times out of ten it's a street person, a vagrant.  It's just something I've always done, first, because I've had many great examples set before me of the effects of human kindness, and second, seeing the need of someone else before you is one of the greatest treasures of the human heart.  It is the unselfish heart that brings life and light to an otherwise darkened world.  It is the person that seemingly has nothing that gives the most.  To give when you are on the border of "without" is to give out of sacrifice and love- it is the essence of true giving.  My brother Fred was like this, giving even the shirt and coat off his back to people he knew that lived in the streets and slept under bridges- that searched in garbage cans for their next meal.  Once he took of his shoes and gave it to a homeless friend of his.  One of my nephews has a similar story.  When a homeless person was admiring his new "Nike Airs" and wished he had a nice pair "like that," my nephew took off the runners and handed them to him, gently, and said, "Here. You can have these."  This bears the answer to the question in great humility, in terms of "spending time": "Excuse me, do you have a minute?"


The essence of true giving stems from the experience of life lived.  The one who truly gives is the one who has experienced great joy, heat-ache, and felt great pain...and through it all has learned to smile again- to be happy- in spite of loss.


How much do you, I , value today?  When we sit back and examine our lives it should be in direct correlation to, and a step above, how we lived our yesterday.  Make every moment count.  The ability to see the beauty in everything and that everything and everyone has potential.  


The ability to prepare things in love, patience, and humility, is the greatest nourishment to the soul.  


To the ones who have helped me through what were some of the most difficult times of my life, "Thank you!" for "spending time" with me!  To all my family, friends, and to the ones who have become a large part of my life in recent months: Thank you!


When you "spend the time" to bake cookies filled with love- to a heart that's been beaten, battered, and bruised (and in the process made stronger!), that love is easily felt.  Sometimes you don't know how your acts of kindness are affecting the lives of others...beautifully!


Sincerely, Godwin. 




                                 Me (Godwin!) Linda, and Fred.  I was thirteen.  The day of our confirmation.



This post has turned into something I didn't imagine it would.  I could post it as one complete post but because I've been working on it now for the past seven hours or so, it's turned into quite the read.  So, I'm going to post this part as Part I, and complete the second part within the next day or so.  The part that explains why I've ended up in the place that I am, the Chinese church and why I feel so alive today. 


For the past day or so I've had this burning desire to write- the thing is, I have so many things running through my mind and spirit I don't really know where to begin or really what it is I'm supposed to write about.  Thoughts of my brother Fred have been echoing inside of me steadily- though he is no longer here- his impact and continuing presence in my life.  It's hard to believe it's already been over seven years since he passed; it seems like just yesterday...I miss him so much.  As I sit here it is becoming clear as to what it is I am to write; again, my brother Fred factors into this- in a very specific way.


I recently joined a new church and now find myself in one of the greatest communities I've ever had the privilege to be a part of.  It's a Chinese church (Evangelical Free Church) and I've joined the English speaking congregation.  The community numbers about two hundred plus and although there is a great number of younger (elementary school age) and the older (elderly), the largest age group would be the young adults: high-school, college, and university.  Within the church are a few cell groups and the church, especially on a Friday night when most of these groups meet, is hustling and bustling with activity.  I state this because it impresses me that when most youth would rather be out painting the town red on a Friday night- here are youth in great numbers, bonding together in fellowship with each other and intending to grow spiritually in Christ.  I think this is absolutely amazing!  I've been invited to be a part of two groups and since joining, not only the church but each of these cell groups, there has been great and magnificent change in my life, spiritually.  I've come back to life; I'm alive again!  Why is this so pertinent?  Let me back track...


This past summer, July 2012, was a very dark month for me.  Emotionally, it was a month of death, a month of many endings; a month of loss.  In the process of days and experience was great pain, and the realization of the culmination of seven years of tragedy, mayhem, destruction, death, and separation: beginning with my brother Fred's death on September 26, 2005.  He was my best and closest friend- I'm the youngest in the family- he was next to me in years.  We were inseparable.  I'll never forget when I got the phone call of his passing, the immediate and complete emptiness that I felt.  My heart sinking and missing the breathes necessary to keep it alive.  The feeling of being "outside of myself" looking in and saying "This can't be happening."  Of all the times to receive the call, when I was driving through one of the busiest corridors of Vancouver during rush hour and praying to God earnestly for strength just to continue the drive safely- through a body that was trembling slightly, holding tightly to the steering wheel, focusing with all my energy on the pedals, gas or brake...looking through eyes that were already filled with tears and aching.  "God, please, I've only a few more blocks to drive.  Please, have mercy on me and get me home safely."  Unlocking the apartment door and stopping on the first step to catch my breath and cry, already, too weak to take another step.  My wife appearing on the top of the stairs, asking, "What's wrong? What happened?"  Through sobs so great and words hard to come by through great pain, with a chest feeling like it was caving in, "My brother Fred.  He's dead, he died."  Instantly my wife ran to me, held me, and cried with me.  "Oh I'm so sorry.  So very sorry.  I know how much he meant to you."  On those stairs we just embraced and cried- uncontrollably.  She held me as tight as she could; for as long as she could.  My brother and best friend no longer graced the face of this earth.  He was gone.  The tragedy of such a great loss is indescribable.  He was my best friend.  As if this wasn't enough, five months later our sister Linda died.


She was next to Fred and I in years- she was the youngest sister.  The three of us were best friends- as Fred and I were, we were inseparable.  How was our friendship solidified?  It was tried, as if by fire, first by the death of our mother when we were very, very young.  I was six- Fred and Linda would have had to be seven and eight.  Then, the death of our father three years later.  After our mother's death as a family we were separated- some of the brothers and sisters were sent to boarding homes in Vancouver, one as far away as Edmonton.  Fred, Linda and myself were sent to the Port Alberni Indian Residential School.  A place of some of the greatest loneliness and isolation a human being can ever experience or feel.  A place of horrors.  It was here I know our friendship was truly solidified- because really, all we had was each other.  We took the risk of being with each other as much as we possibly could even though it meant we would be punished.  The strapping, scolding, and beating, though unpleasant, was worth it: we got to spend time with each other.  We entered the days of the residential school during the time of integration.  The period when Indian children were now being integrated into main stream schooling- into white society.  Schooling before this used to be done completely in the residential schools.  Fred and I went to "Wood Elementary School" and Linda went to "Calgary Elementary".  One of my fondest memories of this time was when the school day ended.  Fred and I would look at each other knowing that the bus would arrive any minute to pick us up.  He would ask, "Want to run to Calgary and see Linda?"  Without hesitation I would always say yes.  We'd run as fast as our little legs could carry us those many, many blocks.  We didn't stop.  Growing up on the reserve we learned that we could run like the wind and run forever.  We knew we had to be there in time to catch the bus as it stopped to pick up Linda.  Come to think of it, we never thought about what the bus driver thought or that he even worried about us.  His journey to Wood Elementary wasn't in vain anyway as there were other kids to be picked up there going back to the residential school.


We'd run and run.  Non-stop.  Talking and laughing all along the way.  Challenging one another and vying for position.  Talking about days on the reserve.  Constantly racing.  Imagining the mountains, rivers, streams, and the forests- which were our play ground.  The trees, which were our monkey bars.  Climbing just to see how high we could go before the tree top started swaying too much.  Still, no matter how much the tree swayed, we would sit, as a squirrel or an eagle perched high on a branch, looking over the village.  It was beautiful.  It was home.  We were missing it.


We ran faster and faster hoping that our sister would be where she would always be, waiting for us- sitting on that little cement ledge in front of Calgary Elementary School.  As we neared, there she was.  From a distance we could see her face begin to light up as she noticed us.  She'd begin to shout, "Run! Hurry! Faster! Faster!" while laughing the whole time.  She was so happy to see us.  Our sweet little sister- in all her glory- sitting on that little cement ledge: her tiny legs swinging, beating gently against the ledge as she cheered us on.  Her hands planted firmly in anticipation and expectation.  We laughed, we hugged, and we just loved on each other.  The funny thing is (well, not really funny), these times were always followed by moments of extreme silence- as if we were sensing and feeling loss, death, destruction, and defeat.  Maybe it had a lot to do with our mother's death just weeks earlier and the fact that we were taken from our family and sent hundreds (though it seemed like thousands) of miles away from home.  The kind of silent anticipation of something that was about to go terribly wrong.  The kind that no good could come from.  Which brings me back to today- at least when Fred died, I had Linda's hand to hold as we walked with the funeral procession toward the graveyard.  When Linda died, I had no hand to hold- and it was one of the loneliest, most painful walks ever- of my life.  The two best friends of mine no longer graced the earth.  They are gone, forever, from this realm.  The pain was excruciating- the tears, seemingly unending, would eventually run dry; seven years later:  not because there were no more tears to cry, but because of the ability to let go, the ability to heal.  To recognize this is sometimes the progression of life and life, no matter what, goes on.  Fred and Linda would want me to be happy. To pack up and move on- to continue running, to continue racing.  To continue climbing trees.  I miss them so much. 


My marriage like any other marriage had its turbulent times.  There were may ups and there were many downs.  There were many contributing factors as to the demise of our marriage- I often blame it on that water bed.  The one that my now ex-wife bought off of Craigslist and failed to tell me about.  The one, which upon its second night in our home, marked the beginning of my sleeping on a small foam mattress on the floor at the foot of my wife's King size water bed.  The one that contributed hugely to the already ailing "moments of intimacy" in our relationship.  The water bed that my wife failed to tell me about, or if she did, would have went something like this:  "It's a really nice bed.  It's King size, more than big enough for the both of us.  It has an oak head board and oak frame.  The guy selling it says it's really nice and is willing to deliver it for an extra twenty-bucks."  Me?  "Uuuummm...okay.  If you want it that badly, go ahead.  Buy it."  She failed however to mention the water part, although she says she did.  If God wanted me to sleep on the water, he would have made me a fish. I could not sleep on that bed for the life of me...too soft and too much movement- and water sounds!  "Swoosh this and swoosh that!"  All night long! Waking up every minute wondering if I'm ever going to get any rest!  I'm an Indian! I above all else love the sounds of nature, rivers, and streams! But not when it's being held captive and fighting to get free!


I do have one amazing memory of that waterbed.  The mornings that I used to bring my wife her coffee.  I'd always awake before her and getting up from my spot, I'd stand and look at her for a few moments before walking quietly out of the room.  That bed was so huge and she was so tiny.  It was the most precious sight, watching her sleep peaceably in absolute comfort on the bed she wanted so much- totally bundled up in her huge, down-filled comforter with her few pillows.  Moments like this moved me most beautifully and she never knew this, but I'd always whisper before leaving the room: "I love you Little Flower," a name I gave to her because of her fragility and absolute beauty.  I'd quietly close the bedroom door behind me and go to the kitchen and grind her free trade, espresso strength, coffee beans.  I'd always grind enough for four scoops because she loved her coffee strong.  I'd add just the one small cup of water ( she had her own special cup), and sit back enjoying the scent of that magnificent, freshly ground, brewing coffee.  Many times it brought a smile to my face and happiness to my heart, because I knew it would make her happy.  With coffee in hand I'd quietly make my way back into the bedroom, and standing beside the bed, begin to whisper, "Little Flower.  Oh Little Flower..."  After a few "Little Flowers" in almost a singing tone, she'd awake- rubbing her eyes lightly and most times smiling so sweetly, saying, "Coffee! Good morning!"  "Yes Little Flower, coffee.  Just the way you like it.  Freshly brewed and strong."  In her angelic morning voice she'd always say, "Thank you so much..."  The waterbed was not entirely to blame.  Really, it made me happy that she could sleep in such comfort and helped me to realize the sacrifices that we must sometimes make, in love.


We were living like room mates the last two years of our marriage. We were like two ships passing in the night (I know! A phrase too commonly used but fits here perfectly!).  We even tried marriage counseling for a few months- I quit going because I was always the bad guy and I hardly left a session feeling any happier than when I went in.  My wife continued with the counseling but I guess "marriage counseling" doesn't work with just one person present- she eventually quit going too.  One night we sat down at dinner.  Looking at her I asked, "Do you really want to live like this for the rest of your life?" She's like, "Like what?"  I said, "We come and we go.  We don't talk much any more.  There's no intimacy between us- when was the last time we made love or slept together?"  I continued, "You're up all night doing your thing and I get up and go to work everyday and do my thing.  I come home, everything's the same: day in and day out.  There's really no life.  There's no change."  The look on her face told me she knew exactly what I was talking about. She asked, "What do you suggest we do about it?"  Knowing what was the obvious answer to breathe life back into our gills, I suggested, "Let's separate."  She just sat there and stared at me. "Separate?"  "Yes.  Separate."  There was a moment of silence (not the kind done in recognition or honor of)- but that which implies uncertainty, an impeding death, heaviness, or destruction.  Knowing that for now there was really no other way, she agreed.


I'll never forget the day that I moved out.  We set the date for May 1st., 2008.  A few weeks, months away so that it would give us a bit of preparation time and we could adjust to the idea of separation.  We didn't have umpteen amounts of money in the bank but I just wanted to make sure that financially she would be okay and I gave her the re-assurance that I would do my best to continue to support her financially.  May came and I had already had anything that I was taking, packed.  This consisted of my clothing, exercise equipment, and lap top.  Everything else I left with her.  She helped me to look for a home and when we found one, she also helped me to furnish it.  We agreed we'd do everything amicably- that we'd stay friends:  no fighting, no matter what.  It wasn't easy in the beginning, we fought like cats and dogs (I know! Another expression too commonly used but fits perfectly here!).  We couldn't take how we were hurting each other so we agreed to stay away from each other until we felt it was safe to get back friends.  Three months passed and I missed her so much.  All I could think about was that final night of my move when we were so tired and so hungry.  On our final trip that day, we stopped off to pick up a pizza from our favorite pizza place, we stopped too, to pick up a nice bottle of Hungarian wine for her.  We got to my new place and placing a sheet in the middle of my empty living room floor, we had our little picnic.  There were two plates, two glasses (a very nice wine glass for her), and some napkins.  I poured her a glass of wine and I drank my diet pop.  The pizza was hot and it was delicious.  We talked.  We talked about our future and where we hoped to be in a few years.  We talked about many of our great and fun times and of our many trips to Europe.  We talked too about our precious "Baby Gepi," our cat.  How he was really going to miss me and when I missed him too much, I could come and visit him.  We had no children.  Gepi was truly our baby.   


Time moved on and I couldn't take it any more.  The pain of missing her was too great. I picked up my phone and called my wife.  Finally, three months later.  Fighting back my tears and trying not to feel the huge, painful lump in my throat, I said, "Hi. How are you?"  She was gardening, it was a mid summer day.  She weakly replied, "I'm doing okay, I guess.  How are you?"  Immediately I began to cry- "Not too good.  I miss you so much."  She began to cry too saying how much she missed me.  The three months apart taught us an invaluable lesson- though we were never going to be together again, we needed each other- as friends.  Then, we REALLY agreed to keep things amicable and even going through the divorce legally, have managed to stay friends, beautifully.


A colleague cautioned me when she knew I was working toward my final divorce, saying, "You know, be careful, as your divorce becomes final it's going to take on an incredibly new turn, maybe even more painful."  She was right.  Though we did things amicably going through the divorce brought up an entire flood of memories and a lot of them were very, very painful. My heart was fraught with remorse, sorrow, grief, guilt, and regret.  This word "PAIN" again comes to mind: strenuous, blood-curdling, mind-binding pain!  That's what this whole post seems to be about: PAIN!


Yes, the past seven years have been destructive and annihilating.  There were also three other deaths in our family.  Two of them an older sister in law and an older brother in law.  The two were integral to our family and huge pillars of love and support.  Their deaths were a huge loss.  The third death was that of one of our nephews.  Death is no fun.


There were other things happening too, that made the past seven years tragically despondent: beginning with my brother's death and culminating in the finalizing of my divorce on August 18th., 2012.  There were huge life changing, life affecting decisions that I had to make personally- to ease the stress of my life and to try to make any type of a come back among the living.  Two major decisions which are likened unto standing on the edge of an abyss, looking into the complete darkness, taking a giant leap of faith and saying, "Okay Father, I'm going to do it.  I'm going to trust you.  I'm going to leap and I'm going to learn to fly."  Death, separation, divorce; isolation, pain, and loneliness:  the letting go of everything familiar- everything secure. Letting go of the past to embrace a brand new future: starting all over again.  The pain of these events was so great, that one night at the dinner table, my sister, brother, and nephew sat in complete helplessness- as they sat and listened to my woes, my heart-aches, brokenness, and pain.  They talked with me; they cried with me: they encouraged me.


There is a light that began to shine amidst the darkness: the recording of my music professionally- the release of my EP "Your Presence," and the launching of my website. 


Yes July was a month of many endings; but as God would have it: a month of new beginnings.  This is when God threw me a life line- and gave me the courage to finally enter the Chinese Evangelical Free Church.  It all gets better from here.  I'll tell the story in the next post: It all has to do with trees, and two dreams.  It's quite miraculous...really.


Post Script:  When I write, I write from the deepest places of my heart; of my soul.  I attended a major literary seminar three years ago in Vilnius, Lithuania.  Our instructors came from all over the world and the participants too, from the United States, Canada, Africa, Europe, and many other places.  The instructors were world renown, fully established and accredited authors.  They gave us great guidance, and along with the participants, they critiqued much of our work.  To sit and have your work critiqued by a fully accredited writer and about twenty other people is quite the experience to go through.  It can be very, very challenging but in the end will only make you a better writer.  After critiquing the first few chapters of the novel I've been working on the instructor looked at me and said, "Godwin, you're well on your way.  I admire the courage and boldness that you exemplify in writing the things which you have written.  Again, you're well on your way...all you have to do now is finish."  I took great delight in his critique and summarizing statement.  At the end of the two week session he said to us all in his concluding statement, "If there is one piece of advice that I can give you that is the greatest trait a writer can have- it is honesty.  Honesty will make you a great writer."  I have never forgotten his words and although I have always believed this, adhere now more than ever to this truth when I write.  This is what causes you to feel...this is why I write.


Sincerely, Godwin.


Greetings everyone! I hope you are all well this fine, fine day! Me? I'm doing amazingly well and just about to go for my nice long multi-mile run.  Doing my best to stay fit and active is a huge part of my (self-made) wellness program.  I find if I take care of the physical- taking care of the rest- the mental, emotional, and spiritual kind of just falls naturally into place.  It all comes with feeling great.


I want to personally thank you all for visiting my website.  I have a tracking mechanism attached to the site and can see the visits in explicit detail.  My visits, hits, are increasing at a rate of a thousand a month: I just really, really "personally want to thank you all!" for taking time out of your day to drop by.  It's all so extremely encouraging, inspiring, and motivating.  You're all so wonderful!


The responses to my music continue to be off the wall.  What ignites me tremendously is, when someone has heard my music for the first time and gets  back to me in person or via the web, how, they're lit up and many times can speak no words further than "I love it! I absolutely love it!"  Honestly, figuratively speaking, their smiles span the earth with eyes that sparkle lighting up the sky as diamonds.  This is all so incredibly motivating and inspiring! Again, thank you very, very much!


This brings me to the main purpose of this post:  if you've heard my stories, visited my site, heard my poems, or have purchased/listened to my music- and it has affected you in some way, shape, or form- positively- moved you, encouraged you, motivated you, inspired you- please...visit my new facebook page and click "like".  Thanking you all in advance and from the deepest places of my heart.




Godwin H. Barton


My brother, Frederick Edward Barton (August 25, 1961 - September 26, 2005) was in a plane crash in early December, 1993.  There were five people on board this huge, old, Gruman Goose along with a lot of freight.  The plane was 55 years old and had not been properly maintained as it should have been.  In terms of the investigation into the crash, there were many faults discovered- in the end, two people were dead, they were "crushed" instantly in the wreckage and three survived, very miraculously.  My brother Fred, by the "Great Grace of God" was one of the survivors.  God gave him back to us for another eleven and a half years before his peaceful passing in September, 2005.  This, I call one of my life's greatest gifts: to have my brother and best friend for another eleven and a half years.  Though his passing was as a thousand swords to my heart and soul- I am extremely grateful for the extra time we had together- considering the tremendous damage and extreme brokenness of his body coming out of the crash.  He was truly a miracle.


I had given up my life and career for him temporarily, here in the city.  Once released from the trauma unit at Vancouver General Hospital weeks later, and it was sure that he was going to be okay, he was sent back to Prince Rupert Regional Hospital.  Some time later he was discharged from the hospital and placed in a hotel in Rupert so that he could keep up with his physiotherapy and doctor appointments.  He needed someone to be with him to assist him with his continued doctor and hospital visits.  He was my best friend, at the time I was the only one in the family not married and with no children- it was obvious what I had to do.  I gave up my career in education, gave up my apartment and moved to Prince Rupert.


I stayed with him in the hotel for a few weeks until I could find myself an apartment.  Nine months into my stay with him, on the morning of one of his physiotherapy sessions, we awoke very early.  I loved and do love my brother very much but small town living is not for me: I have city in my blood.  This is something I've known since I was six years old- the very first time we rode through Vancouver on a bus on route to the residential school.  I looked at Fred, lying on his bed, waiting for the medi-van to pick him up.  As he hobbled toward the door using very painfully, and slowly, his my mind's eye I seen him take his first steps.  He walked out the door and as I watched him I smiled ear to ear.  I knew when he came home at the end of the day he would have great news.  The day ended, he came to the door, smiling...almost in tears.  He said, "Guess what brother, I took my first steps today without my walker."  I looked at him, too, almost in tears and said, "I know brother, I know. Congratulations."


I knew now for sure my brother was going to be okay.  Now began the great internal debate: should I stay or should I go- as there wasn't a day that I woke up there, that I didn't have Vancouver on my mind.


Which Way Should I Go


I've sat in my room many nights in a row

as I've sat I've asked continuously: "Which way should I go?"

My mind often wonders to a city beyond

yet not in heaven but on earth, does this city abound.


It's of many bright lights much excitement and with much to do

wondrous attractions, opportunities, so beautiful too!

Yet in the excitement of my mind's eye

loneliness floods my heart at the thought of good-bye.


Though this town seems small with not much to do

I've made friendships, renewed relationships, I've felt joy too.

In these I'd learned again to trust, to laugh and again to play

a freedom in my heart I hoped forever it would stay.


As of late in uncertainty and with much gone awry

I've difficultly getting back on track, I feel I must say: Good-bye.

In my leaving am I running giving into my fear

so in that city so full of excitement- I could be near.


Am I hoping that the noise, the people, and the stores

would be enough to drown life's sorrows- shutting out life's sores.

Could it be that I've been battered, bruised, and hurt so bad

that I think that I'm not worthy- a healing to be had.


Have I done so many wrongs and wronged so many in my heart

that I continue to deny myself opportunity- a brand new start.

Lord in this world that I've so obviously built

help me build cities called Love, Joy and Peace, Removal of Guilt.


May these cities in their beauty out-weigh all done before

with keys accessible to all who want entrance to the door.

In these cities may there be hugs with many a bright smile

to encourage that one on to go yet another mile.


For the one who is weak, weary and broken hearted

may there be strength, courage and joy, to get them again started.

For the one who feels he's come to the end of his rope

may there be plenty of honesty, wisdom, and beautiful rainbows of hope.


You see here in the cities that abide here in this world

though beautiful and exciting much darkness is hurled.

Let me not be fooled by the city's bright lights

let me see it in its entirety, including the lonely dark nights.


When darkness will roam and sorrow increase

how then will the city be a sweet release.

Lord hear my heart my anguishing cry

I'm tired of trying to build cities that reach to the sky.


When all it takes is time out on my knees

a plea to the master builder: Can you build this city- Please!

Teach me to reach now for what exists beyond

the realms of the spiritual surely much help to be found.


Let me see you in your beauty, your strength and your grace

your ability to build, rebuild, and embrace.

An embracement of love, of loyalty, of trust

to have you in my life Master-builder, is a must.


I'll no longer in this world seek cities that deceive

that lie, that cheat, that destroy and bereave.

I'll set my sights onto heaven as I've heard that it's real

this city of gold, true happiness, no sorrow to feel.


No more darkness, no pain, no parting or grief

to meet at last the one, the foundation of my belief.

His name is Jesus, my Savior, my Lord and my King

the one who is my all, who is my everything.


As I stand once more getting up off my knees

I'll live by faith trusting you Lord, will part my seas.

That neither depth, nor height, nor distance or size

may prevent me from reaching that ultimate prize.


This city that you've built with its streets made of gold

another chance with many loved ones, forever to hold.

Let my heart be no more weary in this place that I am

God's spirit will lead me to where no other can.


Having discovered the answer to "Which way should I go..."

in a still, small voice he speaks:

"Be still. Follow me. For the path I know."


(C) Godwin H. Barton









She once held the sun in the palm of her hand; and the image of me burned brightly in her heart.  Now, she's a shadow cast and as the sun fades so too will the memory of her: yet, she will always be my best friend.


Thank you for all the love, life, memories, and for me the world. 




Two Butterflies


Today I saw two butterflies,

flying through the air;

floating in such freedom,

without a single care.


I imagine in their language,

if they indeed do talk;

one would say to the other:

"Tired of flying- want to walk?"


The other he would say:

"Are you out of your mind my friend!

Surely we might get stepped on-

and that'll be the end!"


The other he'd think "you're right...

and besides our tiny feet-

would take four hundred years,

just to get across the street!"


Together they continued,

thinking happily as butterflies do:

"I'd rather be flying freely...

than be a smudge on someone's shoe!"


(c) Godwin H. Barton




Greetings!  These past few months have given me some excellent opportunities.  On July 18th., unexpectedly, I was called to share a story (testimony) and song at a gathering at the University of British Columbia.  The event was an annual dinner hosted by the Vancouver School of Theology to commemorate and further enhance the reconciliation process between the First Nations People and the church for the wrongs that had been committed towards our people during the residential school era.  In spite of the tremendous, positive strides made toward healing and forgiveness- this still remains an area of extreme sensitivity.  One of my older brothers who was a participant in this two week, VST training program was called on to speak- to sing and share.  He got to the front and said, "I'm very glad to have this opportunity to be before you and I thank you for it...however, I think I'll give up this time and call my youngest brother, Godwin, to come and share a bit of his story and a song."  My brother continued in a way that only a big brother can who was so proud of his youngest brother; he so exemplified his happiness and support toward me.  He was obviously very, very proud.  This was very important to me.  As he spoke his words caused me to well with emotion and even though the request came as a surprise and made me slightly nervous- it made me want to perform my best.  My brother continued, "Godwin recently released his first CD and it's really awesome.  The songs are pretty amazing.  And as my brother, our youngest brother, we do a lot of sharing, a lot of talking.  He has so many great stories; so many great things to share"  He stood and looked toward me, motioning, "Come on up brother."  I went to the front...first to the mike, and then the guitar.


It was an amazing time of sharing as I shared my story of the beginnings of my journey to wellness.  The brokenness, the heart-ache, and the pain.  The intricate plan of God and the fanciness of His handiwork in putting every piece of the puzzle together that would lead to my eventual recovery.  Strength and hope found through death, defeat, and weakness.  More than a light at the end of the tunnel dragging the weights of the world behind me.  I have this gift to speak that people do truly hear; do truly listen.  I have this gift to speak that my words sink deeply into your spirit and into your soul- I have this gift to speak...that when I cry- you cry with me; when I laugh- you laugh with me.  In the end you are left inspired, moved, and motivated.  You are impacted, encouraged, and you are changed: You will see the world differently.  At this time, as we moved from tragedy to triumph, I could not count the number of eyes filled with tears but could only see the cloths and napkins that wiped these eyes.  To punctuate the victory and accentuate the grace, I picked up the guitar and sang "Your Presence".  It was a beautiful, full-filling time.  A time of absolute  prosperity.


On July 3rd.  I was a guest on "World Poetry Cafe" on Co-op Radio.  A one hour program- sharing my music, stories, and poetry.  This too was an amazing experience.  I've been a returning guest on this show, but this time, returning with my first professionally recorded CD.  The show, as reported back to me by the main host, was an absolute success as many people contacted her and continued to contact her days and weeks later talking about my poetry and music.  I am so grateful.  When I left the radio station, I felt too, it was by far the best show I'd ever done...and it was so much fun! Yes, amidst the poetry and song, we laughed, teased, and joked. It was amazing!


Today, I had the opportunity to share again at a "World Poetry" event at a Vancouver Public Library, Renfrew Branch.  I'm in transition in life right now...letting go the security of the past and stepping boldly into my creative, artistic future.  This became the focus of my sharing and the inspiration behind the two new poems that I've just written: they're powerful, and beautiful- and they have "music" written all over them.  They were well received and described as "amazing and inspirational".  Singing along with my CD, I sang "Your Presence".  As I sang a lady in the audience began to quietly weep, tears flowing down her face.  When I finished she looked at me and smiled, saying, "That's so beautiful.  That's such a beautiful song."  I smiled back and said, "Thank you!" I thanked her for her true expression of gratitude and gave her a copy of my CD.  She was deeply moved...and expressed, very honored.  I am so grateful for my life; all of the hardship, terror, torture and pain: it was worth it all.


Take care! We will meet again...Godwin.

Photo taken on the beach of my reserve: Kincolith, BC.


Hello! On Wednesday I was awake very early; thinking on what the coming year will hold for me: leaving work and transitioning into my new life.  As one of my dear friends said, "Wow Godwin! This is it!  The chance you're taking to leap into your greater future!  The courage to release the security of the past and fully explore and embrace your artistic a writer and a singer! Go for it!"  I feel this deeply in my soul.  As I lay and thought on her words, I reached for my daily devotional to see what God had to say to me.  The devotional was titled: "As It Happened," and it spoke of the life of Ruth.  The reading began:  "Boaz was a man of noble character: prominent, wealthy in money and property, a man of strength and integrity.  And it just so "happened" that the field in which Ruth gleaned belonged to Boaz.  It wasn't chance that caused Ruth to choose Boaz's field.  It was a divine act."  Further on it reads:  "Ruth, having left behind the security of her old life, was being offered a new life and future..."  It concludes:  "Have you ever wondered about the phrase, "It just so happened"?  You might have called it coincidence, or providence, or serendipity.  Yet when you took a second look, YOU SAW THAT THE PIECES CAME TOGETHER IN SUCH AN INTRICATE WAY THAT YOU KNEW IT HAD TO BE THE DIVINE HAND OF GOD."  "It just so happened" may be the turning point in your life.  


This is really how I feel as I envision my future as a writer, poet, singer, song-writer, storyteller...the excitement that stirs within me as I stand facing, running to, and embracing- my future.  As I reflect on my CD and how it all came to be, the exact prayer that morning that I prayed, "God, please guide my footsteps today and cause me to meet that exact person that I need to meet; and further Lord, ordain every word of conversation that I am to have with this individual."  It had always been a huge desire of my heart to get into a recording studio and record professionally.  It "JUST SO HAPPENED" as our conversation went from the professional to the personal...within five months of this prayer being answered that exact same day- I had my first, professional, CD release.


Like Ruth, now, I've released the security of the past and I'm being "offered a new life and a new future," and it has "God written all over it!"  I love Him so much...


Credit: Devotional reference: Peggy Byland. Words of Hope. 





My mother: Myra E. Barton.  My father: Cecil J. Barton


Thank you so much for bringing me up in the way that I should go; for as I am older, and you are no longer here- I have not been able to depart from it.  All of your wonderful teachings; all of your love: I love and miss you both so very, very much.  Soon and very soon, we shall be together again.


Loving you always with an ever lasting love...


Your son, Godwin.


This post's title comes from the response of an 11 year old child.  I had the absolute distinct honor and privilege to be a presenter, for a second year, at a "Health and Wellness Conference" at an elementary school here in Vancouver.  My presentation is titled: "The Beauty Within: A Journey of Self-Discovery."  I had three forty-five minute sessions in the morning and a one hour session in the afternoon.  The groups were grades six and seven with thirty plus participants in each group.  My sessions consist of music, poetry, and storytelling.  I was assigned two helpers through out the day- two students who would assist me in setting up and be there at all times for further assistance and support, do a formal introduction of myself, and the "Thank-you!" at the end of each session.  This is one of many presentations that I've done in the past few weeks, months, in the elementary schools, high schools, and the Native Education College which had me back for a second visit in late May.  


Each session takes a natural path of its own; my preparation most times (fasting...) and prayer.  I do practice my songs very often, acoustically, and practice all the time singing to my CD.  Truthfully, I never know which direction a presentation is going to take in terms of storytelling, until I am in that moment.  One thing has proven itself sure, every session is different, very passionate and very powerful.  The stories can be very intimate and personal and the descriptions extremely vivid.  The responses from people, young and old alike- too, are quite powerful.  One teacher said, "Godwin.  When you do your storytelling, it's like you go to a different place; as if you are translated to a different time:  the way that you speak, move, and express yourself- the words that you use.  It's very obvious, as you're telling your stories, you're re-living the event all over again.  You're right those moments.  That's what makes it so powerful, so effective.  As you shared the story of your encounter with your father- its as if I were right there with you.  I felt everything you felt; I experienced everything you experienced.  I cried with you.  And when you made restitution with him two years later- wow! Powerful. I cried even more. It's such a powerful image."


This is me- the absolute and true contents of my heart: all that I am, all that I was, and where I am today.  The tragedy, the healing, the love, the forgiveness, and the peace.


This is why I pray before I sing, before I present...I want to give you the truth: complete honesty, complete humility.  I want you to see inside my heart, inside my spirit, and into my soul.  I want you to know that no matter how dark the day may be, or how deep the deathly blackness of the clouds- when there's not a glimmer of light in the sky and the thunder rolls deafeningly loud and the lightning's flashing with the rain pouring ice-cold:  "There will come a brighter day! The sun will shine again and all will be well.  Nothing is too great that you can not make it through it; nothing is too great that you won't smile, laugh, experience health, hope, healing, peace, and love again.  Nothing is too great that you'll not reach your brighter day!  You will make it through- you will be well again.  Life will get better."


People laugh with me; people cry with me.  People are encouraged, helped, and inspired.  I've been through the darkness, I bring you the light!


Here's a response from one of my helpers at the "Health and Wellness Conference".


"Godwin is a VSB Aboriginal Counselor.  On "Health and Wellness Day" he came to my elementary school to tell us stories and to sing for us.  I was the one chosen to help him and introduce him to every class that came to our session.  I am 11 and people say we young people don't care about this stuff but while I was listening to his music and stories I kept bursting into tears.  Godwin has had such a tragic life and has dealt through it so well and it's all in the song.  The songs have both the 'love and the tragedy'."


Thank you my friend! Such deep words from a young heart!


Did I feel like a Rock Star?  Oh yeah!  Especially when singing to the CD and the response/reaction from the staff and students was, shall I say..."Rocking!!!!!"


In the words of George Dawson: "Life is so good.  I do believe it's getting better."


Lovingly, from my heart to yours...




Photo:  My home community, Kincolith, in North Western British Columbia.





The First Kiss


I can feel the touch of your hand in mine-

our eyes locked face to face.

Imagining the softness of your kiss-

magnificent, wonderful embrace.


Our hearts beat fast hands tenderly shake-

as I move in closer to you.

The world stands still without a sound-

anticipating what I'm going to do.


Softly I whisper in heart felt sigh-

readying for our lips to meet.

You move in closer hands yet in mine-

our hearts a singular beat.


Our eyes are closed our lips they touch-

there's no greater moment in time:

then the day we kissed and love exploded...

and I knew for sure you're mine.


Godwin H. Barton


Always believing in the absolute "Beauty and Power of Love."  I know love will come again, more powerful than before. Waiting for you- with greatest expectation.  Honesty is the greatest virtue of my heart...expounded fully in love.


Greetings!  I, along with many other presenters offering various workshops and entertainment, just completed two days of festivities at the University of British Columbia's, Museum of Anthropology's "First Annual First Peoples Festival".  April 23rd. and 24th.  The event was an absolute success and was planned in conjunction with the Vancouver School Board and the Museum of Anthropology.  It was a few months in the making and came to fruition beautifully. 

As I always do before speaking, I open with a song or two depending on the time frame...this always settles the audience and brings everyone together in a perfect cohesiveness.  With every audience what captivates me as I am singing while playing my guitar- is how they are mesmerized by the sounds of the acoustic guitar as they sit in absolute stillness, semi-entranced- staring, at my hands as I strum and sing.  Its as if they are translated to a different dimension; to a different time.  I love this! Many others just sit and stare right into my eyes as I sing.  Through it all, it is obvious that there is a deep appreciation for the song and the music they are hearing.   They sit, they stare...their eyes following my every strum- with many others sitting in absolute submissiveness as their ears seem heightened to capture every sound.  I absolutely love this!  This is why I enjoy so much what I do...the reason that I sing, the reason that I share: because of you!

It was two amazing days! Two days of absolute success...and something I look forward to again in the future. 

I say this rather humbly and with a heart of extreme gratitude: the main facilitator and organizer couldn't thank me enough for my participation and kept emphasizing the many "great comments" she kept on receiving on my performance.  

Everyone did an amazing job!  Congratulations to every presenter and thank you all for the wonderful work that you did!






This is a part of my story that was published in "Chicken Soup for the Recovering Soul" 2004.  It is one chapter of the autobiography I am working on.  The story is of an event that occurred in my life in 1988 (twenty four years ago) and still impacts me greatly today as I ponder the things that might have been said during this interaction.  I have absolutely no remembrance of the words that were spoken that night but the feeling, energy, and emotion associated with that time are not only of hope, expectation, and renewal... but a great sense of anticipation that I have been left here for a specific purpose and an exact time- that there is something very specific that I've yet to accomplish.  The feeling?  That it's not only pertinent to my life but also to the life's of others.  Many occurrences in my life have me believing this: stalking and standing over the eagle in the wild (something that is NOT humanly possible but by the Grace of God and prayer...I did it); the dates in my bibles; and the many mysterious, and sometimes magical events supernaturally and spiritually that I have been graced to be a part of- the things that I hear, the things that I feel, and the things that I see.  Since this time, continuously I examine my life and the tremendous changes and challenges that I have been through.  I'm thankful now more than ever for every heart-ache, brokenness, grief, sorrow, and pain; also, to every beautiful song, I've learned to dance in my victories.


Hebrews 13: 1,2. (King James)

LET brotherly love continue.  Be not forgetful to entertain strangers:  for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.


The Mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.

John Milton, Paradise Lost


     Dinner was at a local Greek restaurant to be followed by dancing at one of Chilliwack's more popular nightclubs.  It was a time filled with great food, laughter, teasing and recollections of the school week.  Fully satisfied, some would leave for home while the rest of us made our way to the club.  Bright, colorful lights flashed and strobes pierced the semi-dark room filled with people having a good time listening to a good cover of "Twilight Zone," a song originally done by Golden Earring.  The music was loud and the party was just beginning.  My hands helplessly reached for the concoction capable of turning man to animal.


     Looking to my girlfriend, I asked jokingly, "Hey, baby! Do you mind if I get drunk tonight?"  Knowing that we lived just a couple of blocks from the club Phyllis replied, laughing, "Sure.  Why not!  I don't have too far to carry you home!"  Over the music I shouted, "Right on!  You're my kind of girl."  The night of drinking, laughter and dancing would take its toll.  As if I didn't have enough to drink, or wasn't drunk enough already, I always had to finish with a zombie or two, a very potent drink of various types of alcohol and a bit of mix.  My laughter was now diminishing and the apparent heaviness of my heart was showing on my face.


     "Are you okay?" Phyllis asked.


     Looking like the zombie I had just drank, I replied, "Yeah.  I'm fine.  And you?"  Rubbing my thigh lightly as she always had, Phyllis said, "It's okay.  Everything will be alright."  Her eyes looked right into mine as if she could see right through me, reading my mind, seeing my soul.  Feeling her love and knowing that I couldn't hide anything from her, tears began to fill my eyes.


"Had enough to drink?  Want to go home?" she asked.  Hesitantly I answered, motivated by the thoughts of the damage I'd now begun to do in my drunkenness, not feeling too safe inside myself, "Sure.  Let's go home."


I awoke in the morning, sad, sick, sorry and extremely hungover, awaking again to the words that I dreaded hearing after a good night's drunk.


"You're not going to like yourself very much when you see what you've done."  Silence filled the air.  I was too ashamed to even look at Phyllis for those words only meant one thing.  Defeated, I slowly made my way to the living room, hoping in these few minutes the damage I'd done would somehow miraculously repair itself.  "Oh my God!  I did this?"


     Phyllis scared and very concerned asked, "You don't remember?"


     Fear gripped me as I envisioned the fury it must have taken to reap such destruction.  "No. Why?  Why did I do this?"


"We had just left Huggies.  You were quite drunk and I wanted to get you home.  You stopped in the parking lot across the way.  I looked at you.  Your eyes and your face were as if you had become a different person.  I asked if you were okay.  You said yes.  I told you to keep on walking- were were almost home."


"Not moving you started asking, 'Why?'  I asked what you were talking about, 'Why?' what?  You didn't answer, you just stared.  You started hollering, your fists were clenched and you ran angrily toward the house.  You kicked in the door.  By now you were cursing. 'Why!'"


     Fearfully I asked, "Where were the kids when all this was happening?"


     "I found a note on the table, they spent the night at a friend's place.  There was no one home but you and me,"  She explained.


     Not really wanting to know, I asked, "What happened next?"


     "You began smashing everything, punching and kicking the walls, that's where all the holes are from.  Walking over to the fireplace you knocked everything onto the floor.  You flipped the couches and the armchair as if they were paper weights, smashing the coffee table, and throwing the other table around.  You walked over to your weights and picked up your barbell and began repeatedly slamming it to the floor hollering and cursing."


     "And where were you while this was happening?"


     Phyllis replied, "Right here, next to you."


     In utter dismay at the vast devastation, I asked, "Weren't you afraid?"


     "No.  I began to pray.  You made your way into the dining room, crying, still asking 'Why?'  I just watched you.  I wasn't afraid."


     The tone of her voice changed as she said, "I really need to talk to you about something." 


     My spirit, already crushed, braced itself for the worst.


     "After doing all the damage, do you remember anything at all?" she asked.


     Puzzled, I answered, "Nothing.  Why?"


     Silently she stared at me, and then continued.  "From where I was sitting you were in full view- you didn't enter the kitchen, you stood in front of the doorway."  Pausing again, she looked at me questionably.  "You began to talk to someone..."


     Quickly I interrupted her.  "You said we were alone." 


     "Yes.  That's true, but as I watched you were motioning with your hands, very clearly talking to someone.  I couldn't understand what you were saying but I could hear you as clear as I hear you now.  You spoke with this person, or what ever it was, for about ten minutes.  Do you remember who, or what it was, and what it is that you talked about?"


     Even more perplexed I replied, "No.  Are you sure this is what really happened?"


     Assertively she retorted, "Come on now.  You know me.  Would I make something up like this or lie to you?"


     Phyllis was a woman of many years of sobriety, a woman of integrity.  She'd never play such a cruel trick on me.  She continued, "Whatever you two talked about, it must have been something good.  Afterward you changed completely.  You turned to me with an incredible look of peace back in your eyes and on your face."


     "You walked toward me, and of all the damage you had done, the only thing that you picked up was the calendar with the picture of Jesus on it.  You pinned it back onto the wall, then said, 'Let's go to bed sweetheart, I'm tired.'"


     Powerful emotions stir as I recall that night years ago and think about the places from which I have come, worlds of seemingly unrecoverable loss and immense pain.  Wondering how a hand of beauty, love and grace could reach into darkness so vile to rescue one such as I.  Tears, no longer of rage and anger, roll down my face in thankfulness for the life I have now found.  Sobriety; a life no longer dominated by drugs, alcohol, rage, pain.  Five years, each new day bringing with it the promise of something better, this can only be so as the words he spoke still echo somewhere deeply in my soul.


Sincerely, and from my heart to yours:  Godwin H. Barton.


Angel Warrior:  "Go for it!  You are not alone!"



Cycles:  One More Time


Cycles:  an experience in life,

a lesson to be learned more profound than before;

through darkness to light, the opening of a door.


With each new turn came an entire new dimension to the experience;

spring, summer, winter, fall-

a new lesson to be learned in all.


They say that pain walls in a wounded man,

subconsciously seeking shelter;

experience after experience, joy after pain-

from copper, to silver, to gold in the smelter.


Wishing to be a child releasing laughter in the rain-

only one way to go, again walk through the pain.

Character, wisdom, knowledge and strength-

seek only to be thy attributes, event after event.


They say that in each life a little rain must fall-

yet from showers to thunderstorms...

I've been through it all.


The light may have diminished, time after time-

sometimes extinguishing, lying here dying.

Through it all though mine eyes did not see-

the surge of my spirit would gain the victory.


Though you look at me seeing me only in the flesh-

abolish not beauty, for such is the reward of my test.

In time by example many a heart will be won-

I can only pray for patience as the steps I take one by one.


Cycles:  an experience in life,

a lesson to be learned more profound than before:

a room filled with longer hidden beyond the door.


Godwin H. Barton


Photo:  River at the back of my home community- Kincolith, in Northwestern B.C.



Greetings! Several of my posts on my original blog were removed, archived, and my readers could not access these posts.  I tried re-posting the posts several times but was unable to.  This post originally appeared on Sunday, April 18, 2004.  It's of a magnificent happening in my life pertaining to three dates which I was given over a few year period.  This is the fourth time I'm attempting to create this post on this site.  The other three times, when I completed the entry and clicked post, the entire post disappeared and each time it is the accumulation of at least three hours work.  Sometimes I wonder, there are forces out there that work against us especially when there are great stories to be shared.  Stories that inspire:  bring hope, courage, and strength.  This is one of those stories.  However, since I've been on my computer now for the past six or more hours doing this, that, and the other thing- I think I'll attempt to create this post in segments and continue the work in the coming days.  Stay tuned, I promise you- this is a good one.


It's Sunday morning and I made a "conscious decision" not to go to church.  I'm sitting here at home and I'm mulling over the significance of the church.  I've been a regular attender and have attended one church in particular now for a little over two years.  I'm now at a stand still.  I'm contemplating with-drawing, for a period of time, from the church.  This not for any reason in particular, right now it just seems to be the right thing to do.  Yes church is a place of congregating as the bible instructs us:  "Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the matter of some is..." (Hebrews 10:25 KJV).  Note, although we are encouraged to gather together as "brethren" (brothers and sisters in Christ), there is no mention here of the church building itself.


I'm a man of sobriety now "By the Grace of God" for over five years; totally drug and alcohol free and each day just keeps getting better (today, thirteen years).  As I've reflected on my sobriety and how it came about- much of the work happened away from the church.  The reason you might ask?  In a lot of my earlier church experiences I left each time more broken than I was when I went in.  This not only from sermons that had me feeling greater hopelessness because I could not live up to "that standard," but, also from "well intentioned ministers" who, while I acknowledge that they too are only human, pushed to shape me into a "man after their own image."  Sermons of hell, fire, and brimstone didn't serve to heal too well either, the pain I knew was inside me.  I needed to experience love.


I'm not a man perfect by any means.  I still say and do things I shouldn't say or do; just ask my wife, she'll tell you everything, truthfully.  (My wife and I are now legally separated, for almost four years and are legally divorcing.  It's unfortunate that our marriage didn't work out but today, we do keep in touch and are really great friends.)  In a moment of conflict she said to me:  "If you're an example of what a Christian is like, then I don't want to set foot inside a church again!"  She was right!  Not to excuse my behavior, but, I hold no shame in this because I know that I'm a work in progress.


Philippians 1:6 says:  "Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ."  The living bible puts it this way:  "And I am sure that God who began the good work within you will keep right on helping you grow in his grace until his task within you is finally finished on that day, when Jesus Christ returns."  In light of my short-comings, defects of character...and sin, I am encouraged:  I am a work in progress!  And, God's word is final!  The bible does state that all have sinned and come short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23).  Understand, this is not a ticket to sin, or, in our Christian walk to go on sinning.  It simply means that in our lives there will be times of great weakness when our fleshly, carnal desires will over-power our willingness to do the right- and we'll find ourselves again in something that totally contradicts all that we believe.  I know it's an unpleasant feeling when we compromise our beliefs and values, but remind yourself:  "I am a work in progress!"  Change will come!  I promise will!  The evidence of this?  The many times I tried to clean up my life but failed- and found myself again in the fiery, strangling tentacles of drugs and alcohol.  Change came, when I least expected it; however, through great pain.


As for the church building itself, the "Temple of God" I reflect on three bibles that were given to me.  The first, the Living Bible, Paraphrased, given to me by my sister Sharon and her family and dated February 17, 1982.  The second, The Holy Bible, King James Version, given to me by my sister Addie and her family and dated February 19, 1982.  It wasn't until I moved to Vancouver that the significance of these dates would take on a deeper meaning.  At a prayer meeting, an out-reach program for this particular church I was now attending, I was given a third bible:  The Holy Bible, New International Version.  This given to me by my niece Zelda and her family and dated February 18, 1988.


The perfect, chronological order of these dates did not occur to me immediately.  One afternoon I decided to do some reading.  I grabbed all three bibles, and opening the front cover of each, I placed them before me.  I was amazed to see the exact alignment of all three dates:  February 17, 18, 19.  The third date, the 18th., coming six years later.  I sat thinking this is too real to be a coincidence knowing that God does not toy with, or tease his children.


The anxious, energetic, ambitious (obnoxious?) young Christian that I was, I began to get all spiritual!  I thought, "It's time to pray!  I have to find out what this all means!  I have to read more, pray more, go to church, fellowship!  If I want my answer, I really have to watch how I live!"  "HELLO!!! HAVE YOU NOT HEARD ABOUT GRACE?!"  There was nothing that I could have done to ensure that I would have gotten the answer.  In the wisdom of my brother Steven most recently pertaining to the number "222" and its continuing occurrence in my life (another- can only be explained supernatural goings-on event):  "Be patient.  God will reveal it to you in his time."


I fasted:  I just ended up stuffing my face!  I prayed:  then thought about how repulsed God must be by my vain repetitions!  I fellow-shipped:  but the answer did not "pop!" out of the mouth of any one around me in this "great prophecy!"  I gave up!  Yup, I gave up.  In the least, I could still read- which is what I decided to do this beautiful, April morning, some two years later.  I'm glad that I didn't continue fasting, by now I'd surely have been a bone rack, or dead!  (Come to think of it, given the extra weight that I carry and have never been able to lose- it follows me every where- this would not have been a bad idea!).


Just as in the days of  my youth when I would awaken with my father at 5:30 in the morning, together, to do morning devotions- I awoke, and felt this compelling need to read and pray.  I went to the corner table stand and grabbed my Living Bible.  Sitting next to the kitchen window, randomly, I opened the bible and placed it before me.  I looked up and starred at the sun for awhile.  It was such a gorgeous, April morning.  I began to read- and there it was before me- flashing right in my face, the date:  February 18.  It is the completion date of the rebuilding of God's Holy Temple in Jerusalem.


King Darius had issued a decree concerning the rebuilding of the temple (Ezra 6: 13-15).  It reads:


"Governor Tattenai, Shethar-bozenai, and their companions complied at once with the command of King Darius.  So the Jewish leaders continued with their work, and they were greatly encouraged by the preaching of the prophets Haggai and Zechariah (sons of Iddo).  The temple was finally finished, as had been commanded by God and decreed by Cyrus, Darius, and Artaxerxes, kings of Persia.  The completion date was February 18 in the sixth year of the reign of King Darius."


I was in awe, inspired, and hopeful!  Compassion ran through me like a hot knife through butter.  Finally, the significance of February 18th.  Thinking on the "Temple" I was lead to the book of Corinthians.


I Corinthians 3: 16,17 states:  "Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and the spirit of God dwelleth within you?  If any man defile the temple of God, him shall God destroy; for the temple of God is holy, which temple ye are."  I knew God was speaking to me about my body, his temple; my life, the brokenness of it and the necessity for healing.  As I imagined the destruction of the initial temple in Jerusalem, I began to think about the destruction of my life:  all of the heart-ache, pain, sorrow, and grief.  The realities of my existence were presented before me on a platter and I could no longer deny these.


My hurt began to surface.  I sought God with greater devotion, commitment, sincerity, and desire.  There were more quiet times.  If he was showing me my pain, I knew that he wanted it...but first, I had to go through it:  to re-live it, to feel it.  Serenity enveloped me as I thought some more on the completion of God's Temple.  Finally, a chance at "wholeness," a chance again, to be well.  I was over-whelmed by God and his exactness.  I was over-whelmed by his ability to shoot at the target and hit it directly in the bull's eye.  I didn't know for sure what was going to happen; all I knew is that I was crying more.  I began to experience the places of Psalm 51: 17:  "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise."  Feeling my pain was o.k. as long as I was in God's care.


I continued to go to church, to fellowship, and to fast.  I continued to read.  This time, the experience was different than before- something was happening.


Greater sadness filled me as I had no choice now but to face head on, the greater truths of my life.  I was sad, hurt, lonely, angry, bitter, and broken.  I now felt more than ever, the death of my mother when I was six.  The severe, merciless beating I took at the hands of my father immediately after her death; a beating that should have been enough to kill any six year old child.  I began to feel again the loneliness of separation from family- to the terror, torture, isolation, and pain, of the Indian Residential School.  So much for a six year old to endure; followed, and punctuated by the death of my father when I was ten.  I began to experience again the years of abandonment, hunger, and sleeping out in the cold.  The inescapable yearning for my mother's, loving touch.  Sleeping under other people's houses or the church next door for fear of going home only to be beaten.  Stealing food from other people's porches so that I could feed my brother and myself; taking blankets from their clothes lines that we might have warmth in the night.  So much heart-ache; so much pain.  Too much for one soul to carry. 


This, although I didn't know it then, would be a perfect platter of sacrifice to a loving, kind, generous, and compassionate God.  I continue in my healing journey today.  Gradually, I am becoming whole and my temple is being restored.


As for all these "things" I only used to deal with using drugs and alcohol, I now had to find a more productive way.  Hospital visits, suicidal tendencies, and encounters with the police were enough to tell me that something was terribly wrong.  Self-destructive behavior, at times self-mutilating behavior, were strong indications that I needed help.  The pain hurt so much- the natural inclination was to increase the pain.  Pain became the norm.  There was no hope.


I needed a place where I could sometimes swear, and be angry, even violently- and not be judged.  I needed a place where I could sometimes shout, rant, and rave, and not be condemned for my actions.  I needed a place to cry, and not be made to feel shame.  The church could not do this for me.  Sad to say, in those more integral years, it only compounded my pain.  I walked away knowing that if God cared enough to send me the dates in my bibles and speak to me about inner-healing, he cared enough to heal me regardless of where this healing would take place:  in a church, or some where else.  The cuts ran deep and the healing would not happen over night.  It took years to accumulate; it may take years to unravel.


As to the question of attending church, I am glad that I made my way back.  Church is a good place to be.  For the time being however, I think "I'll just be still and know that he is God."  To make the time to work on my manuscript  that I started three years ago (now eleven!).  I have a story to share, and someone out there needs to hear it.


Sincerely, from my heart to yours...




Photo:  Taken atop a castle that a Hungarian artist built for the love of his life- his wife.  Szekesvehavar, Hungary.


Post Script: It's been eight years since I first created this post.  In my life there has been much growth, much challenge: I've known further defeat, devastation, and was visited again by death many times of beautiful family members- especially the two best friends of mine:  my brother Fred and sister Linda- my next oldest siblings who truly were the greatest people/friends in my life.  Their deaths- a million swords to my soul, a cutting of my heart to a trillion pieces- a crushing of my spirit like I had never felt before.  Their deaths, back to back, five months apart.  No greater loss have I ever felt than to loose the two best friends of mine.  The loss of my marriage- an agreed upon and planned separation; no matter how much you try to prepare for, and plan for something like this, how much you talk about it and talk it through with your wife who is now no longer going to be with you- it is still devastatingly painful.  I'll never forget the night that I moved.  I was parked in my car outside our place, going in to get another load of my belongings.  I couldn't take it, I picked up my cell phone and called one of my older brothers- I could do nothing but cry: I never imagined, given the amount of love that I had for her, that it would come to this.  My cry, my deep, soul agonizing cry.  I could not even speak a word to my brother and all he could do was cry with me.  Finally, we were able to pray.  I wiped my tears, though my eyes were blood shot and glossy- I faced my wife as if everything were OK.  I knew that she knew, but the pain was too great to talk about.  She too, looked like she were ready to fall to a million pieces on the floor.  We knew where we were at and where we were going, we knew this was the best thing we could do for each other.  It was not easy.  In spite of all the loss, through it all, I've known the great sweetness of victory.  I've learned again to turn tragedy into triumph and loss to gain.  I've learned to put one foot in front of the other- and to walk again.  I'm learning to fly... 






A few years ago, this poem was inspired by a lovely lady friend of mine.  We had, over a period of time become very, very close.  Sometimes we would talk and laugh for hours- just laying there together.  At other times we went for long drives on sunny afternoons, stopping at a park or interesting spot just to enjoy each others company.  There were evening and night walks along the beach, and standing on piers staring at the starry lit skies as we held each other in a gentle embrace.  We were intimate in friendship and conversation, but we never crossed that line (you know the one where there's no turning back? That one).  There were lunches, dinners, and times of absolute stillness where no words needed to be spoken: just being there, being the best of friends...and loving every minute of it.  However, there came the time we knew it would end- for many obvious reasons.  As we talked about the paths our lives were taking us, and there would be an inevitable separation, she was very hurt:  she began to cry, yet she was strong.  Maybe in a different place or a different time, things could have been different.  Before we parted she had this pretty amazing dream.  It gave us, especially her, the strength to move on.  The dream was of an eagle, flying through a storm.  The thunder was rolling, the lightning was flashing, and the rain was pouring- heavily, amidst some very powerful winds.  An eagle appeared, it did not go around the storm...fearlessly, it locked its wings- and flew directly into, and through the storm.  She told me this dream with tears in her eyes as I could only imagine the majesty and beauty of it all, and thinking of the magnificence of the eagle.  Our time ended.  Later a mutual friend of ours came to visit me and told me that my lady friend was taking our separation, an agreed upon decision, a lot harder than expected.  I thought about her dream, and in my spirit felt her cry, and seen her tears.  I began to write:

An Eagle Powerfully In Flight 


It's a necessary cut to span the sands of time-

once traveled roads, familiar valleys, many mountains to climb.

It's a journey many an individual will often fear to take-

as it seems once more, life is being put to the stake.


They say it's a step necessary to achieve a higher plane-

re-experiencing loss, touching on grief, sorrow and pain.

Your soul made bare and all experience brought to light-

it seems a permeating weakness, too long a dark night.


You wonder why in light of love things must be this way-

all you wanted was friendship, trust, and companionship to stay.

In these you'd learned again to laugh and too, that it's o.k. to cry-

sharing dreams, a gentle embrace, under a starry lit sky.


There's the sound of the ocean waves beating gently against the shore-

so too were the courage of your convictions, knocking on your heart's door.

Yet resist as we would try the more we would come to see-

there's much healing to be had, for both you and me.


The revelation of this knowledge led again to one becoming two-

separated in the physical, yet in heart and spirit, much time with you.

So as you journey toward wholeness being embraced by the light-

remember always the promise: "An Eagle Powerfully In Flight."


For V.  From Godwin.


I sent the poem, along with a pure white eagle feather to V.  According to our mutual friend, she cried when she read the poem and held the feather.  However, she did not feel worthy of the feather and returned it, saying, it was meant for me.  I have that feather, along with another one, black, attached to two roses- one red and one pink, now dried, hanging over the mantel of the fireplace.  Every time I look at it I think of her, and wish her well.




I just got through entering on my "Reviews" page, some letters that I received from students and staff from one of my presentations here in Vancouver.  I remember praying the morning of the presentation for some kind of miracle, sign, or wonder...for something to happen that was out of the ordinary.  As I began my presentation that afternoon, and everyone was in the room, seated, the classroom door was closed.  A few minutes into my presentation the door unlatched and opened slightly.  I ignored it thinking it was a student trying to find their way- I continued to speak.  Someone got up and closed the door.  A few minutes later the door unlatched again and opened slightly; again, a student got up and closed it.  It happened a third, then a fourth time.  I looked over to a student looking at me, I asked, "Is there someone there?"  She said, "No.  The door just keeps opening on its own."  I responded, "Oh, an unseen guest, or guests!"  I walked over to the door, opened it widely and said, "Welcome! We are very pleased to have you here.  Please, take a seat."  I closed the door securely and proceeded with my presentation- for the remaining hour and a half, the door didn't open again.

This is the beauty of life: the unexplainable and the mysterious- sometimes, even the magical!


Photo: Found online- creator not listed.


Today I celebrated my thirteenth year of sobriety: "By the Grace of God," one day at a time.  In the beginning, sometimes one second at a time, one minute at a time.  I remember two weeks into my sobriety a man made a bet with his friend, referring to me: "I'll bet you five dollars he'll never make it."  He didn't know I over-heard their conversation.  Here I sit, thirteen years later, drug and alcohol free: more than making it and many of my dreams coming true.  I paid no attention to his ignorance as I knew then, I was in it for me and no-one else; I had no hope or strength to offer to I was yet this vessel amidst life's treacherous sea: battered, beaten, bruised, hurt, torn, bitter, and angry.  I was in search of love, peace, healing, and joy; somehow, this time, I knew I would find it.

Said the Most Hopeless in the Bunch

If words could describe, what the past thirteen years have been-

four thousand seven hundred and forty-five days, just where do I begin.

Treacherous pain of heart and soul, tears shed in a very dark place-

shattered spirit and brokenness, no strength to run this race.

Beaten mentally and emotionally, flesh bruised right to the bone-

vacant physically and spiritually, for sure there was no home.

Dreading the day and hating the sun, because black became the norm-

much more comfortable to feel great pain, amidst life's merciless storm.

Hope was becoming a four letter word, that could not so easily be erased-

the bitter drink that kept me going, I could no longer taste.

I took a step and eventually two, joining hands with others before-

marveling at their radiant smiles, as they sailed a brighter shore.

Stories shared through tears and sobs, were really no different than mine-

we've walked the walk, they've paved the path, they are the lights that shine.

"If I can do it, then so can you," said the most hopeless in the bunch;

"I used to drink three times a day: for breakfast, dinner, and lunch."

"The crutch I used was Mary Jane as I hobbled on my way...

now I don't even need these things, as I start another day."

The strength it came in that final moment, searching for a closing word:

"Cry your tears one day at a time..." rebuild is what I heard.

Thirteen years of baby steps have passed, as again I've learned to cry-

dusting off those feathery wings, to take a chance and fly.

Treacherous pain of heart and soul, has now been turned to strength-

so much healing, fun, and laughter: fought for at any length.

Sincerely...Godwin H. Barton

"You can do it! Yes you!"


Greetings Everyone!

I want to "Sincerely Thank each one of you!" who have very faithfully followed, and visited my blog on a regular basis. Your participation and feedback is very, very encouraging! From now on, I will use this, my website, as my regular blog.

As I do lead a very busy life with a full time job, exercise regime, and making time for friends and family- while the whole time staying "Artistically Creative," I've made a decision to post more regularly. I've written many more poems and have five more songs ready to go for recording. This all takes time and money...a lot of money! I also have a very amazing children's book completed and looking to get published, along with a book of poetry. I continue also to do presentations- as a musician, singer/song writer; author/poet; and professional story teller.

My producer, and "Liquid Tension Music" were most gracious in fully financing me for my first professional CD release to the exact amount of $6,500.00 hard cost, and an extensive amount more for miscellaneous. Now, it's up to me to make the money for the next round of recording, and to begin making the music videos that many of you are asking for. Here's where you come in. I beg, and plead to your kindness, and thank you for your already existing support: If you have not yet, can you please go to itunes, CD Baby, e-music, Amazon, or any other large number of sites and make a direct purchase of my CD, or individual songs. I promise you, by the amazing response to my music from everyone who has already will not be disappointed. It is being loved by everyone, every where, and people can't seem to say enough great things about it. Also, can you please pass this information on to everyone on your social sites: facebook, twitter, My Space, and any others. Please, I have a dream; and together, we can make this happen. I am a very talented, gifted, and passionate poet, musician, and story teller. It brings me no greater joy than to share these gifts with the world. As I do my presentations in song- music, poetry, and story telling; literally, people are moved to tears, sometimes crying uncontrollably from the beginning to the end as my words pierce into their being- in the beginnings of healing, hope, and inspiration. I share with you my heart; I give to you my soul. I give you the stories- unscripted, unedited, and true. After a presentation, people can't hold me long enough in an embrace of extreme gratitude with a heart full of thankfulness. This is what I want to share with the world; the gift of life, the gift of hope, the gift of inspiration. My stories are many: from interactions with the realms of the supernatural and spiritual (yes, these things are real), and great, extraordinary experiences and events in daily living- to the guidance by dreams, and the realms of the prophetic. There are stories of struggle, destruction, death and annihilation; to hope, endurance, peace, beauty, and love. Then there are stories of pure enjoyment; of happiness. There must be a balance in all things.

I don't have the backing of major corporations or commerce; but I do have a producer who fully believes in me, and my musical talent, gifts, and abilities- so much so that he/they, were willing to place thousands on the line and hope for the best. Please, I, we, need your help.

I thank you again from the deepest parts of my heart, and my soul: you are all truly, truly wonderful.

The new songs too, are absolutely amazing; I know this, because the people who I have played them for already, are lit with excitement, with joy...and can hardly wait for the final, recorded versions.

Wishing you all a very "Merry Christmas and extremely prosperous New Year!"

Again, thank you!

Sincerely, and most lovingly...

Godwin H. Barton


The Beauty Within

If you look in the mirror and see a twinkle in your eye-

it's a reflection of your soul a fiery sky.

Your strength is great and your beauty serene-

a magnetic personality by all persons seen.

So when life around you is rough and the mirror's reflection dim-

focus not on your outward beauty, but see the beauty within.

Godwin H. Barton



This is a posting I placed on a social site some time back. It's just something I felt in my heart to write, to post. I received a few very passionate, heart-felt responses before it was flagged for removal. Women, searching for true love were deeply touched by the post's content: its honesty, depth, and sincerity. I guess for others it touched on too great a truth- that ultimately, there is the one out there who is our soul mate; the one who is ultimately made singularly for you, for me. In the direct or indirect acknowledging of this truth, or simple exposure to it, I feel, because it created feelings of discomfort, many choose to flag this post for its removal. Its removal does not negate the possible truth- that there is a "Soul Mate" out there for you, for me. Too many of us settle for the one that we think "Is the one," often giving up because of loneliness and not wanting to be alone, rather than letting life and love take its natural path- that would ultimately lead us to our one true love. In the same breath, maybe we do have to go through a few broken hearts and "lost love experiences" before we meet "the one." Also, the post touched on the concept of a "God," I do believe in God, I do believe in Jesus; I am not a man perfect by any means- but given the atrocities, challenges, and struggles of my life and the many, mountainous obstacles which I have had to over-come to get to where I am today...He's always been, and always will be: My best friend. I write this also having been through one failed marriage.

This post is based on a dream that I had one year after my separation. Today, three years and three months later, my ex and I continue to get along and are very, very good friends.

Posted: March 31, 2011 5:00 AM.

You're the most beautiful being that I've ever seen. When I seen you- I stood in awe: mesmerized, speechless...smitten: completely. I looked, I stared- my eyes could move in no other direction than to look deeply into those starlit eyes that shone with the sparkle of diamonds. The eloquence, beauty, and elegance of your stature totally enraptured my heart; my soul- the entire universe stood still, as a soft voice spoke gently into my being: "There she is..." My heart raced, rampant with passion. My spirit reeled; my soul danced. Excitement, happiness, and joy fail to describe fully all that I was feeling at that moment. I was elated, ecstatic, moved deeply with emotion as tears welled in my eyes and rolled gently down my face at the sight of you. First, because I thought that I would never find you- that we would never meet; and second, as each day ended and we still hadn't met, I had no idea how I would continue to carry the burden of the love that I had for you. It was becoming pain, heartache, and even torture. I had no idea who you were, where you were, or what you looked like. I had the image and the description that I often offered to the Father as I prayed. I knew that you were strong, spiritually, and beautiful- internally and externally. I had so much love to give, so much love to share. As long as we hadn't yet met, my day ended as it always had: alone, in the agony of another whispered prayer. Somehow, I always found the strength to believe- I refused to give up. Now, here you are: The warmth of the tears rolling gently down my face reign in blessing.

Suddenly, every tear cried in the secret place is given substance, depth, and meaning. Every prolonged, agonizing moment of waiting is given purpose. Every question answered, by- "Your Presence."

I tried almost desperately at times to make the dream come true; only to come to dead end streets, disappointments, and broken hearts. Finally I gave up the search and thought, "Maybe God doesn't need my help. He knows what's best for me and in His good time He'll send her to me. He'll cause our paths to cross. And when we see each other, we will know."

This God of mine has never failed me and does truly know what's best. If He gave me the dream, this desire, then in His appointed time it will come to fruition. In waiting for you, I had to believe this. This was my hope. After all, how much more symbolic can a dream become- than that, of a "Huge, fully blooming, Cherry Blossom Tree" on the beach of my reserve, in far northwestern, British Columbia, immediately below my sister's house. The tree, rooted and grounded deeply, where the water meets the shore. My sister and I on the boardwalk next to the tree, staring in complete awe, "How is this possible?" The blossoms: huge, beautiful, and of the loveliest pink. The leaves: the brightest, radiant green. The trunk: strong, and immovable. Under clear, blue skies, as the waves lightly rippled against the shore, splashing gently toward the tree. It was absolutely beautiful.

 I knew your country; your nationality; your origin. I knew that once we met we would become one: rooted and grounded- passionate and beautiful. A love birthed under the clear blue skies of heaven and nourished by the elements of earth and water- these things, eternal. I knew, when I seen you, that you were mine. To do away with even the slightest shadow of doubt it was necessary for the voice to speak internally to confirm this- to know of a certainty, that ours would be a love to last a life time; and that daily our love would be renewed, unending, as the waves that ripple endlessly against the shore. With every passing second we'd fall hopelessly in love with each other- over and over again.

I thank God continuously for the Cherry Blossom Trees that line the many streets of Vancouver. When I look at them, I think how wonderfully blessed I am to have you. I smile, and whisper, reaffirming my love for you. You don't know this, but the moments that I am away from you- I tell you a million times that I love you; and that I miss you. How exciting it is to know that in a few short moments or hours I will be with you again- it makes everything that I do more enjoyable and fulfilling. Everything is given life, purpose, and meaning. My "Beautiful Cherry Blossom," I can hardly wait to see you again. I love you so much.

End of Post.

Two years later; I still wait, the prophetic and absolute possibility- that dreams do come true.

If you've found love; hang on to it- and fight for it when you need to. If you've found love, it's a beautiful thing- don't ever let it go. A very good lady friend of mine said, as I shared with her my desire for an Asian companion: "Godwin. Maybe you shouldn't limit yourself. You should keep yourself open and available for the possibility of love coming from any direction, and who knows, maybe she isn't Asian. You may have to go through another relationship or two before you find the right one." There's great truth in her words. And maybe, just maybe...

As I feel, I write, and experience- then internally, comes the poetry, comes the song; the passion, set aflame: lyrically.




I had to mail out CDs and "Thank You!" notes to some very special people who are thoroughly promoting my album.  As I wrote, this was spoken clearly into my spirit: "New acquaintances in our lives are additional feathers to our wings- that help us fly."  I send this to you all also...with much love, respect, friendship, and appreciation.  Thank you so much for your support.



I believe in the healing power of music- beautiful music, which seeps into the heart, into the spirit, and into the soul.


I Samuel 17: 14 – 23:  But the Spirit of the Lord had left Saul, and instead, the Lord had sent a tormenting spirit that filled him with depression and fear.  Some of Saul’s aides suggested a cure.  “We’ll find a good harpist to play for you whenever the tormenting spirit is bothering you,” they said.  “The harp music will quiet you and you’ll soon be well again.”  “All right,” Saul said.  “Find me a harpist.”  One of them said he knew a young fellow in Bethlehem, the son of a man named Jesse, who was not only a talented harp player, but was handsome, brave, and strong, and had good, solid judgment.  “What’s more,” he added, “The Lord is with him.”  So Saul sent messengers to Jesse, asking that he send his son David the shepherd.  Jesse responded by sending not only David but a young goat and a donkey carrying a load of food and wine.  From the instant he saw David, Saul admired and loved him; and David became his bodyguard.  Then Saul wrote to Jesse, “Please let David join my staff, for I am very fond of him.”  And whenever the tormenting spirit from God troubled Saul, David would play the harp and Saul would feel better, and the evil spirit would go away.


As you listen to these songs, may you be set free into a world where all things are possible, every thing is beautiful, and there is love, peace, and joy.  


From my heart to yours...Godwin.

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