Today, in the Shadow of Loveworthy

The landscape, dreamlike, floated past her motionless body.
  Reliving the events recently past cast her into a vast
  and swirling pool of confusion, revelation and incredulity.

'Could this have really happened?' rang through her mind.
  'Is it really possible?'

The images captured her,
  binding her body to the earth,
  opening her mind to the universe.

It started so innocently and quietly.
  She saw the young woman walking and felt immediately
  a profound connection, a knowing, a love for her.

A young adult herself, she followed eagerly the allure.
  The young woman recognized her at once,
  and without hesitation, they walked together.

There are those you meet in this life with whom
  you share a soul-contract, an agreement of a journey
  shared to grow, heal, love, create...

These two women understood immediately,
  felt the connection, but knew not
  the contract they were to fulfill together.

So, they loved and walked,
  fell deeply one into the other,
  experienced exquisite bliss and happiness.

Then, out from the mist stepped a man,
  clad in greys and browns
  and garnished with eyes of steel
  and a smile contorted into a scowl.

He too knew this woman,
  approached her with the arrogance
  born of authority and rank.

Sanction and blessing were his to confer
  and he wasted not his breath in
  apprising her of his judgment.

'What are you doing?!'  he exclaimed.
  'Who do you think you are, parading
  about like this, with another woman?!'

She spoke not, but in response gathered
  her partner's hand in hers and stood resolutely,
  quietly defying his judgment.

In anger and disbelief, he disappeared into the mist.
  They gazed into each others' eyes and vowed
  that nothing could separate them, ever.

But as they walked, more stepped from the midst,
  chiding her, calling her back to the fold,
  pronouncing judgment on her soul,
  lambasting her with profanities surpassed only
  by the hate coursing from their being.

The acerbic ridicule escalated into physical threats.
  But still, she would not loose the hand of her partner.
  Without words, she proclaimed her right to happiness and love.

And, facing excommunication from her community and family
  for this profound and singular love,
  the veil lifted from her person,
  revealing a heart broken by their betrayal.

Her countenance grew hard with anger and definance.
  She would never again kowtow to rules of community
  defined by fear and hate.

She felt love, was inspired to find the greatness in herself
  by this love, healed and grew and laughed in this love.
  Something so precious could not be wrong,
  and she,
  she was Love worthy.

So she and her partner walked together,
  fortified by their love for themselves and each other.

But they, the others,
  fed by fear and ignorance,
  could not allow such a shameless display
  of love and happiness.

Nor could they tolerate deviation from the rules
  that held tightly that community of believers.
  So, they set out to stop the abhorrent abomination.

Secretly, they approached Loveworthy's partner.
  'She is dirty, you know.  She is bad.  She can
  only mean trouble for you.  Best you leave now,
  while you can'  they advised.

Frightened by the others, her partner appealed to Loveworthy.
  'What are we doing?'  she asked.  'Is it okay for us be together?'
  'Will they hurt us?  Is it worth it?  Are we worth it?'

Loveworthy stared at the one who made her heart sing,
  the one with whom she shared a soul contract.
  And, she cried.

The hate and enmity, like a poison, had penetrated her partner's
  heart and soul.  It had turned her against herself,
  made her question her own wisdom, and worse,
  made her doubt her own worthiness to be and feel love.

Broken, Loveworthy turned away,
  the walk no longer theirs,
  their love stolen by ignorance and fear.

They caught her that day,
  walking alone by a stream.
  There, they took her.

She could not be allowed to endure.
  Her message was audacious,
  too strange, too dangerous.

She walks no more by this stream.
  Her smile, the potential that was hers,
  the love she offered,
  all died that day.

And here I lie, next to that stream,
  unable to move, transfixed by the memories
  of the love that was mine and that I gave away.

Through my tears,
  I see her spirit, feel her touch my heart.
  And I see for the first time
  that she is me.
  I am her.

In her shadow, I stand.
  In her eyes, I live.
  In her heart, I am
  Loveworthy.

Turning the Gaze of the Rich Uncle

The days are slipping by
  and I suddenly realize that
  I've been back from Viet Nam
  already almost five weeks.

It was my intent to spend time
  with family and friends during
  what I believed would be a short
  stop before the next call of Spirit.

What I didn't realize is how difficult
  the re-integration back into this society
  would be for me.

A dear friend and pastor once told a story
  about a rich uncle, obese with wealth,
  who regularly laid out feasts for his kin
  and who then threw the scraps to his
  dogs.

Meanwhile, on his front steps lay
  the hungry, the cold, the homeless,
  the hurting.

He never once turned his head
  to thier plight,
  nor did he ever question the possible
  implications of his actions
  on those others.

'As a country,' my friend asserted,
  'we are that rich uncle.'

I witness that, I see it,
  it breaks my heart.
  And, the answer runs so much more deeply
  than 'giving at the office'.

It is the way we live, our very lifestyle,
  that is hurting others in our own country
  and all round the world.

We have the fortune of being born into
  the richest, most powerful country
  in the world.

It is easy to forget that when burdened
  by the impact of this current economy
  and the strife we feel here.

But, it is true nonetheless.
  Knowing how difficult it is for us now,
  imagine how much more difficult it is
  for someone who can't rely on having
  clean water to drink or food for one's children
  or safe refugee from the storms of life.

And, even if we can't see or imagine it,
  our daily life decisions,
  our lifestyle,
  does impact people all round the world.

It is the nature of living in such a powerful
  and wealthy country.

I so pray that this rich uncle could,
  would turn his gaze to those
  at his doorstep.

The See...I

There was a girl with stars in her eyes.
  She danced and ran through the fields,
  chasing after the vision
  that played, always, just one step ahead.

Closer and closer, she drew,
  yet always the vision eluded her.
  But, the girl wouldn't give up.

'Why would this vision come to me,'
   she thought,
  'if not because I am to follow it?'

So she continued her chase,
  bounding over rocks,
  climbing hills,
  gaining strength and clarity
  with each step.

One day, she happened upon a pond,
  and in it, she saw a beautiful young woman.
  Startled, she stepped back.
  And, the beautiful young woman disappeared.

She crept back to pond,
  and looking therein, saw once again,
  the beautiful young woman.

The young woman gazed back at her,
  stars dancing in her eyes,
  arms and torso strong,
  blonde hair waving gently in the breeze.

For a very long time, the girl gazed
  at the young woman.
  Finally, she decided it was time to move on.
  The vision would not be kept waiting.

So, with tears in her eyes,
  she bid the beautiful young woman, 'good bye'.
  And as she stepped away from the pond,
  the young woman disappeared.

She ran, swift as a gazelle,
  feeling the roar of a lioness building
  in her lungs, sensing the changing seasons
  against her skin,
  led always by
  the vision.

Sometimes, she felt herself lift off the ground,
  saw herself flying among the stars,
  felt the touch of angels.

She ran, danced, flew day-upon-day
  until one bright morning,
  she came upon a vast, churning
  sea.

Across the sea, she saw
  stones, spaced evenly apart
  stretching into the distance...
  and beyond that, her vision.

She sensed something different,
  ominous, perilous, foreboding.
  Even as she drew back from the water,
  she saw, once again, the woman.
  Only this time, the woman was older,
  stronger, with a confidence and deep faith.

And she realized, the woman would take
  her safely across the sea.
  So, she stepped onto the stones
  and began her crossing.

The waters churned as if in anger.
  The wind whipped at her face.
  The stones slipped beneath her feet.
  Yet, she continued - her vision before her,
  the woman at her side.

Days passed, the skies grew dark,
  and the stones disappeared beneath
  the broiling sea.
  No shore was visible, only
  the stone upon which she had not stepped.
  And, the woman melted into the
  frenzy that was the water,
  leaving the girl alone, cold, frightened,
  feeling a growing sense of death.

In the dark, she discovered she could
  still see her vision in her mind, even if only dimly.
  So, she closed her eyes and stepped forth,
  one foot after the other,
  feeling the stones beneath her feet.

Thus she strode, into the growing darkness and cold.
  Until one day, she stepped upon a stone that gave way.
  Quickly, she withdrew her foot and saw
  the stone was, in fact, a turtle.
  She could not step on it without killing it.

She turned her gaze back to the stones upon which
  she had come,
  but they were no longer there.

She was alone in the great, angry sea,
  with nowhere to step except onto
  a being that could not bear her weight.

Fright grabbed her heart for she knew
  she could not hurt the turtle
  and she could not turn back.

Holding tightly to the memory of the woman,
  eyes closed to see her vision,
  she stepped off the rock
  into the sea...

The See...II

The waters swallowed her,
  pulling her ever more deeply into
  the dark, wet abyss.

Holding her breath,
  feeling her lungs burning,
  knowing she couldn't hold
  much longer.

Seeing, still, the vision in her mind,
  even as her limbs grew still
  and she drew the liquid breath.

Knowing she could never step
  on the turtle.
  She could not harm another
  for her own benefit.

Floating gently on the tide.
  Not feeling the cold or the wet.
  Feeling only release and peace.

Ours is to live and strive and learn
  and, sometimes, to struggle
  and question...

but never to harm another
  on our way.

The see,
  gentle and warm,
  blue and effervescent,
  giving way to the quiet but powerful
  rhythm of the turtle,
  now gliding under the girl,
  lifting her gently on its back,
  carrying her on,
  her vision gleaming in its eyes.

See

We are one.

Harming another, no matter how small,
  harms us all.

Walk in peace, love always,
  harm never,
  on this journey.

the Harbinger

Seems a lifetime ago that I wrote this poem.

  I could feel my soul dying, but knew not why.

  

I had planned, so carefully, my life,

  had chosen with whom I wanted to share it,

  crafted a family and home and vocation.

Yet, something was desperately wrong.

  I could feel it, sense it,

  but I couldn't see it.

It felt as if the life force within me

  was withering,

  and soon all that would be left

  was a body, a shell,

  a veneer covering a vast

  emptiness.

Just two years later,

  I learned...

and then, I spent the next ten years

  watching as it all,

  all of it,

  fell apart.

July 23, 1996

Why does my soul cry out so?

  Not the wailing of loss,

  but the whimper of the lost.

Why do the tears turns to rage?

   And from where do they come?

Why do I hide from those I love?

  Desperately closing out their voices and faces

  in the steady drone of the television?

What child is in me, scared;

  so used to the dark, comfortable in its security

  and strangling in its web?

Why does my soul cry so?

  What has it lost?

  Where should I look?

  How do I rid - finally - the desperate scream,

  the never ending sorrow, the emptiness?

Please God

  If only I knew what it was,

  I could work with it,

  soothe the pain, find peace,

  fill the emptiness.

Years have passed.

  Some moments so deep in pain;

  with the ever present boding

  that I am trapped inside with no way out.

I can no longer hide in this quiet hell.

  I must break out;

  I must understand how to break out;

  Please let me loose;

  Please let me go.

Show me the wound,

  Help me to heal it,

  Let me live, love.

Please..

I remember -

  I used to soar to the stars;

  I smelled the pines;

  I was one with the earth and sky.

There seemed no limits, no fear, no end

  to the possibilities, the love, the joy.

I remember -

  but I no longer feel.

The stars have wandered far from my gaze,

  The pines keep their scent from me,

  The earth has become only the surface upon which I tread.

  The sky - the impossibilities, the vast open of fear.

Where once there was excitement of adventure,

  there now is growing fear.

Where once there was simple wonderful joy,

  there now is anger and more anger.

What happened?  Where is 

  the joy, 

  the stars, 

  the sky, 

  the pines, 

  my heart?     

Gifts of the Harbinger

A few days ago I shared a poem that,
  now looking back,
  I understand was my soul
  preparing to open itself to a knowledge
  that would burn like wildfire
  through my life.

That knowledge, finally,
  was shared with me,
  and like a great ball of fire, it

  burned
  destroyed
  decimated
  everything in its path.

No one and nothing was left untouched.

The fury and hunger of the beast
  unleashed seemed endless.
  The horror of the dark exposed
  was stunning.

Yes, there was dark in my self.
  But, I witnessed also
  the dark in others,
  saw it bare its ferocious fangs,
  swing its mighty claws,
  scream its bloody cry.

I believe we are given our greatest tests in life
  as a gift, an opportunity
  to learn wisdom of great import,
  so that we can then offer it back
  to life.

Many years, I have spent healing,
  trying to understand, re-building,
  re-visioning, re-crafting, healing,
  trying to move beyond...

I set out to share this story in hopes
  that some of that coveted wisdom
  would grace itself upon me so I could
  share it with others and show that there
  really is hope,
  even when all is darker than dark.

But, I find in this endeavor that the pain still lies just below the surface.
  And, I find myself once again on my knees,
  asking what it will take, finally,
  to heal these wounds,
  praying to find the wisdom and courage
  in myself to forgive and allow and love,
  just as I have so wanted from others.

Perhaps, I can start by visualizing each one,
  and surrounding him/her in brilliant white light,
  and love, unconditional love,
  not mine to give,
  but to pass on.

Perhaps, that is where I will start.

Finding the Gifts of the Harbinger

How do you break the chains of the past?
  Wise ones from the native people's would say,
  you re-write the dream.

Choose to step out of the role in which
  you cast yourself
  and recast yourself in a different way.

You create your reality, not just figuratively,
  but quite literally.

In search of wisdom, I instead found
  a child still wounded.
  And that child wants to teach me.

So, I listen
  for I do not want to be held
  by chains of my own craft.

I want to evolve
  through the rich experiences
  offered me in this life.

It is true,
  my discovery set in motion
  a vast tide that swept over many
  including myself,
  
and challenged us all,
  some of us at the very core of our being.
  Perhaps, that in itself was the gift.

Mindful that I can speak for no other,
  I revert back to the first person
  so to honor the path that others must/choose
  to walk.

Looking back now, I see there was no other way.
  This part of me had to be birthed
  for therein lie the gifts.

And the part I want to re-write?

No longer am I the 'victim of circumstance'.
  I am co-creator.

No longer am I defined by, nor does my worth
  depend on, what others think of me...
  or what I think of myself.
  
No longer am I the 'betrayed', the 'abandoned',
  the 'cast-out', the 'ugly', the 'worthless',
  the 'disappointment'...

I am different...
  and that is not a bad thing!

Others who are confronted with my
  differentness are, in turn, invited to peer within
  to see what evolves there.

It is not for me to dictate or judge their response.
  It is their walk, not mine.

If I can accept each in hir own response
  and see it as a reflection of hir own journey,
  I will be respecting that person just as s/he is
  and honoring the path s/he is walking in this life.

That's for starters!

The Great Halls of Sorrow...Part I

11 November 2009

My teacher wanted to do an energy healing with me.
  So, we started.

Immediately, the energy inside me broiled upon her touch,
  swirling, spinning, building, faster, faster, faster,
  mounting like a lion,
  air filling its lungs
  as it lifted its head to roar...

Suddenly, I was in a white palace, marble all round,
  statues, pillars, steps, beauty..
  I was dressed like royalty, and looking down,
  I saw that I was a young man.

Alone, stood I,
  in the middle of this decadence,
 recognizing this place as 'home'.

Great doors stood locked before me,
  the doors to the outside,
  the world of which I was not a part.

Slowly, the doors swung open,
  letting in the dark and a profound sense

  of despair.

Like a wave, the despair rolled over me, filled the room
  and pushed me closer and closer to the outside.

I stepped over the threshold into the darkness
  and saw upon my steps many people,
  splayed, lifeless as if destroyed in battle.

Death surrounded me, yet I saw no blood,
  only bodies as far as my eyes could see.
  Young, old, mothers, fathers, children

lying motionless in the dark.

And then, the anguish set in,
  deep, dark, horrible anguish
  that brought me to my knees
  as if I could feel each and every one
  dying in agony and hopelessness.

Even as the horror of death settled upon me
  I realized that I, alone, was safe
  from the scourge.

Behind colossal locked doors
  I could live in wealth,
  completely unaware of the devastation
  at my doorstep.

And with that realization set in a profound
  sense of shame.

'Why them and not me?'

Shame that I could not help,
  but that I stood helplessly by
  as so many suffered;
  shame that I ate to my fill
  each meal of the day as so many
  longed for just one morsel fallen from my table;
  shame that I was born to so much,
   expected so much,
  when so many were born to little or nothing.

What made me different?
Why me and not them?
Why them and not me?

Alone surrounded by black death
  I stood,
  clad in white and gold,
  sandals of leather,
  jewels marking my rank,
  surrounded by death.

And, the sudden realization
  that I deserved none of what
  I had been given,
  and that these
  deserved none of the black death
  to which they succumbed.

Startled by the cry that came from my lips;
  feeling the tears streaking my face;
  hearing the gentle call of my teacher
  to come back;
  devastated by the vision
  of me/him
  and the guilt
  for having lived when others
  did not.

The Great Halls of Sorrow...Part II

7 January 2011

The spirits came and asked me to travel.
  They sang and danced, told me it would be safe.

Suddenly, I was in the great hall again.
  I was both the wealthy young man
  and the spirit moving him.

I held him and told him to open the doors.
  He was filled with fear and remorse,
  but gathered the courage to once again
  venture into his grief.

Slowly the great doors swung open
  dark filled the hall
  and with it, the stench of death.

We/I/he walked slowly into the dark.
  Standing on the steps, I saw a
  luminescence around me.

The light wavered when I saw
  the death and felt the destruction,
  but it did not succumb to the darkness.

I found the body of one who had died;
  saw myself lay the body
  on an alter.

I drew the spirit out of the body,
  infused it with my spirit
  and saw light go into it.

I then showed it a portal
  in the heavens and escorted
  it there.

Still there was darkness
  everywhere,
  but the luminescence
  surrounding me
  shown brightly.

And, the young man
  who was me,
  felt, for the first time,
  hope,
  and a reason
  for being.

The Alpha and the Omega

Christmas, 1974

Candle light, Strauss, glistening snow, and a 14-year-old girl with a need to write…

The earth cries out in agony and despair as it clings to life with its last bit of strength.

The reason for the vast decaying of mankind had been discovered; but in vain.  It was too late.

It started so plain in view that man looked right at it – and right through it.

All the warnings of possible destruction from the arsenals, the factories, the automobiles and the smoke were to no avail.  None would take these ‘health freaks’ seriously.  So – there was smoke, smog, littering, dumping of wastes into dark, dying lakes and streams….and apathy until that one year.

Man, with his great mind and fantastic achievements was about to witness the total ruin of the earth.  As fast as man’s mind had developed and matured itself up to such a miraculous wonder was as fast as man would watch himself die.

When the first signs showed themselves, man, who could not even bother himself with his own children for fear of precious time loss, had naturally postponed this trivial thing until later.  The problem?  Only a few cattle had died after drinking from a clear lake.

This would not be discussed again until reports were made that irrigated crops in various parts of the world were dying with no apparent reason.  ‘No fishing’ signs were posted more often than not and the wildlife were mysteriously dying.  These incidents aroused some attention from the public, who asked that an inspection take place.

Slowly, with little deliberation, the governments set aside some of their precious time to inspect the problem.  After a total of three weeks of inactive, broken inspection, these happenings were posted as only coincidental.

Life went back to normal.  People went on living as before and critics kept on writing and warning.  But even those with the wildest imaginations could not conceive the whole population of all the earth being totally wiped out.

Meanwhile a bacteria that had somehow formed from the mixtures of the pollutants grew and spread as fast as if death itself was chasing it.  It’s victims at first were the occasional animals that drank from it’s water home and the plants which received it from irrigation.  It spread like wildfire, contaminating every bit of water it was transmitted to, and in turn contaminating and killing living beings – beasts and men.

Within six months after the first dead cattle had been found a third of the world’s population had been wiped out.

The government heads, now seeing there was a serious problem, went to work searching for the reason and the source.  During this time signs were posted on billboards all over the world reading thus; 'The department of health has declared all bodies of water around the world unhealthy and possibly harmful to anyone who goes in or near them.'

There were two stages in this development; 1) spreading of the bacteria to all known and unknown bodies of water throughout the entire world, and 2) the waiting…the short waiting period where the remainder of the plants and animals died and the half crazed people ran to the forbidden water to have ‘just one last drink’.

And now after almost the whole population is dead, a dying scientist sees the answer.

It is there and it is gone – so – his life.

The death bell has rung and has taken its toll.

When the last form of life is gone the sun comes out as never before parching and shriveling the earth with it’s stinging, harsh rays.  There is nothing now, no form of life anywhere.

All is brown and dead….all dead.

There is a silence in the world.  A muteness that is so loud, it seems to explode in your mind.  There is not a baby crying or a person screaming; not a sparrow singing or a lion roaring.  It is so still you could hear a butterfly perching on a flower.  All has ceased to exist.  Even the wind has silenced itself in this victory of mankind over himself.  The power of death has overcome.  Man with his superior mind and incredible achievements has unintentionally disregarded his own human needs and thus has destroyed himself….silence…

Wait!  What is this?!  

It comes almost minute at first but then it grows and grows.  Soon the tears of remorse from heaven over a lost love fall to the earth, bouncing off the dried  withered remnants and shattering into a million, dancing sparkles of glistening sun-drops; not black and soiled, but clear and pure and alive.

The dry, cracked earth is much surprised as these wonderful bits of life share their gift with it, but it soaks it up and asks for more – and… receives it.

It rains….and it pours.

As the sky clears a sudden radiant light appears.  It is a dove – pure and white and shinning with beauty – carrying in its mouth a small, green twig.  The dove gently drops the twig and when it touches the earth, it infects the earth with a contagion that seems to affect the whole earth; only this time the contagion is life.

Feeble, young plants peak out from the sullen earth and are almost scared away, but the warmth of the sun and the nourishment of God’s tears encourage them to take on life.  Shinning as brightly as they can, they stand up to death and beat it.  Soon the earth explodes with color and life while the oceans fill themselves with cool, living, clear water.

Then comes the almost chaotic excitement as the animals start out their new life.  As instinct pulls these habitual creatures into a forgotten routine of life, you can see such sights as the king of beasts stalking its unsuspecting prey and the tiny hummingbird flying through the air at a speed three times its own intricate body size. 

In the midst of all this commotion there is a chorus of high-pitched screeches which stops the animals in their places.  The trumpeters, which act as the alarm device of nature, usually warned of a coming disastrous event, such as fire or a flood, which the animals responded to by fleeing from the foe.  But this time there is something in the air that tells the animals not to run, not to be frightened.  Not one beast moves so much as to twitch an ear as they stand staring in awe and wonderment at the creatures before them.

Joined hand in hand, the two stand silently.  Their naked bodies are sturdy and strong; their faces that of beauty.  And in their glimmering eyes there is a shining love and a determination that will last till the end…and after.

‘And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good.’

Happy Endings

26 September 2012

Strangers came to my home the other day.
They dressed respectfully, hiding the gold
draping their necks and replacing high heels with thongs,
like mine.

But, they could not hide their riches behind sad eyes
or cautious greetings.
You see, they know how to use a toilet.

'A toilet', say you.  'What of this toilet?'
I'm trying to tell you.  They have seen a toilet.
They have used a toilet.

Wait.  I see the disdain in your eyes,
the incredulity, the thinly veiled disgust.
At first, I thought you shared my sense of the oddity
of this situation.
But, I see now that the disgust in your eyes is not
directed at the strangers.
It is a disgust for me.

But why?
I have done you no harm.
I have children, see?
I work 16 hours a day to earn
$1.00
so that I can buy food for them.
I'm sorry that I cannot dress as you.
Then there would be no food for my babies.

I'm sorry that I don't know of toilets.
There is no such thing in this place that I live.
Never in my life have I seen one.

Please, accept this gift of water
to quench your thirst in this hot climate.  No?
I'm sorry the river water doesn't please your palette.

Tell me, from where do you get the water in that bottle?
It is so clear.
Yes, thank you.  I would like to taste it.

It is so sweet, clean.
I have never tasted water like this before.
I am ashamed now for offering you the water
from my home.
It's all I have.
I'm so sorry.

I suppose you'll have to leave now.
Wait, don't forget your paper and pen.
No, I don't need it.  What would I do with a paper and pen?
Will it feed my children?  Can I sell it?

What will you do with that paper and pen?
Tell stories?  What stories will you tell?
Who will read them?
I hope there is a happy ending to your stories.
We all want that, right?

Soul Retrieval

2 April 2011

I knew I needed to reach into the pain to heal
  So, I journeyed to learn what to do to heal.

At the tree, the angel picked me up
  and carried me through the tree.
  She put me together again at its base.

Everyone was there, White Wolf close to me,
  Crone by my side,
  But, I was a small girl, 5 or 6.

Crone took my hand, the angel close behind,
  and we walked through the field,
  but the door caught my attention.

I went to the door and realized what was inside.
  I was frightened, but knew that it must be me
  who opened it.
  Finally, I gathered the courage and stepped inside.

It was dark and dank.
  Deep in the corner, I saw her.
  She was emaciated and grey.

I was now a woman.
  I stepped forward to touch her.
  She smelled and her countenance was repugnant.
  I reached out to her and she placed her bony fingers on mine,
  cold and hard.

I was standing over her and realizing that, squatted down.
  I told her that I loved her.
  I shared my love with her.
  But then, I became frightened and ran;
  I was, again, the 5-year-old child.

I surfaced at the tree.
  Then I saw myself at 12-years-old,
  skinny, funny glasses, long-blonde hair,
  in love with animals and nature,
  wearing a stripped tank top and shorts,
  and searching, already, for wisdom.

We started talking.
  She said I was old.  I laughed.
  She was asking questions.
  I told her,

'You are seeking wisdom.  You will look in the Bible.
  You will read there words that are not true.'

'But the Bible is true!' she exclaimed.

'Not all Bibles.  Remember they are written by humans
  who make mistakes.
  The one you will read will share untruths with you.
  They will wound you deeply.'

'But why?'  she asked.  'Why would they lie to me?'

'Because, you are different.  That difference scares them.
  They will try to force that differentness out of you.
  And, you will believe them, for in your innocence 
  and your search for wisdom,
  you will accept without question.'

'The battle thus begun inside you
  will be for the very life of your soul.'

'It will tear you apart, and manifest
  in this life as a firestorm, burning
  those closest to your heart,
  shattering everything in its presence.'

'It will bring you to your knees.'

'And from it, you will spend 
  your remaining days
  healing,
  learning,
  growing,
  into that which you are to be
  in this life.'

Incredulous at these words,
  the 12-year-old that was me
  stood firm in her faith that
  this could never happen to her,
  and in her belief that she
  could fulfill her quest
  to find wisdom.

I knew that it was she who could open the door.
  So, together we went back.

She opened the door without hesitation and saw
  the broken one crouched in the dark corner.

She approached, impervious to the wretchedness,
  heart full of compassion and unadulterated love.
  She feels no fear.  She has a profound, solid faith.
  She is strong, of heart and of soul.

I looked upon the figure in the dark and saw it was the 12-year-old.
  Then, the little girl appeared.
  She was frightened by the figure in the dark.
  But, the 12-year-old, once again in her own body,
  encouraged her.
  'It's okay.'

We all left the dark of the closet and walked to the field.
  the broken one felt the sun warm her body;
  the children gave her water, she was so thirsty.
  But, she wasn't healing.

Then, we knew what we had to do.
  The 12-year-old said it.
  'We need to enter her body, the little girl and I.
  And then, all three of us need to enter you.'

'Together,' she said, 'we can heal her.
  I will bring her strength and faith and courage.'

The child showed us a ball of white light in her hands.
  'I', said she, 'can bring the light.'

And I, the elder, can bring some wisdom.

The girls entered her.
  I saw the light, tenuous and flickering,
  and knew they couldn't do it alone.
  So, I joined the three with myself.

Together, we can heal her.

The angel lifted me, carried me through the tree,
  and left me standing beneath it;
  reveling in the warm sunlight;
  feeling the light shining inside me.

Gratitude and wonder.

The Kundalini energy rising from my root chakra;
  my body gently buzzing;
  energy pulsating everywhere;
  my hands buzzing.

'Welcome back, my darling.
  I love you.'                   
-------------
5 April 2011

Ever since I merged with the torn part of my soul, things have changed.
I am immensely sleepy, but not an emotional exhaustion, just a gentle, sweet tiredness.
It feels as if it is a tiredness that can be lifted with time and honor and simple love.
There is also an incredible compassion flowing through my veins.
A different awareness.
A sense of wholeness.
A feeling of authenticity.
It is like eternity touched my shoulder
and left a sparkle.