the bejeweled bedrock of the psyche: all i ask is this

If you haven’t yet noticed, I’m all about a multidimensional, multifaceted approach to existence. That means I willingly (or not-so-willingly) embrace the (so-called) good, the (perceived) bad, the sacred, the sublime, and the ridiculous.  In two healing sessions this week, I hit bedrock — core, foundational, cellular stuff that continues to reveal a panoramic, 3D, 5D, 9D view of my soul’s journey. The only way “out” is “through,” and I am embracing every delicious, painful, wretched, exhausting step of the way! Thanks to Robert Donaghey for the art: click through for more of his soulful, mystical work.

The Dark Night of The Soul, by Robert Joseph Donaghey,

all I ask is this:

that when my eyes blear red with weeping,
a gentle hand will sluice down the waters of my leaking heart

that when my Sisyphusian shoulders bleed with the desolation of restitution
comfort shall be offered and thus received

that armor will be removed with tender touch
soothing salve laid solicitously on searing wounds dressed by nimble fingers
and a light fluttering of wings touch their lips to my threadbare, sodden lids

all I ask is but this:

that when the memory of the greatest Love the world has known
racks me in a shuddering release of pain and passion,
the arms of eternity will wrap ‘round me and quietly still the eruption of my soul

that in the darkness, light will flicker
and in the light,
the darkness will deign to shade me from a rasping glare

that the sun will rise in the morning and warm the frozen tundra of my smile
the mockingbird sing every song yet sung
the grass underfoot beckon my weary step in welcome

I pray this and nothing more:

when I bestir myself to survey the battlefield on which I lay,
i ask only to be gifted sufficient moments of silence
musical echoings of heaven’s vast canyons
a way made through the carcasses that litter the surrounding ground
and I am given a peace in which to gather my shredded wits about me

that the terminating moment is once more held at bay
the upturned jug fills my mouth with a quiet cascade of ambrosial waters
the torn and tattered legs beneath extend me to height once more

and that I return emptied of ancient agonies
wiser and yet more willing
rapturous in fulsome heart
and filled with the abiding glory of the unseen

5 thoughts

  1. Prayer is very powerful. I remember sitting in a Mosque shortly after my conversion to Islam, I hadn’t learned the prayer yet so I just sat and watched, and listened. I felt an overwhelming sense of being in the presence of some power, some force that was so profoundly immense I felt that I was sitting before The Mighty Throne of Allah. Watching my brothers make the “Salat”(prayer) the synchronized movements, the togetherness, it was just overwhelming. No pictures, no statues, no pews just an empty space filled with love, and devotion …I’ll never forget how I felt at that moment.


    1. Jaco,

      Thanks for sharing this beautiful, soulful Comment. You truly are a planetary citizen and I so enjoy when you bare these rich snippets from your life. And BTW, you look SO MUCH younger once you shaved your beard and ditched the robe! (-;


  2. @ tekia,

    It seems less and less possible to characterize things as “important” or “simple,” “mundane” or “profound.” All the dualities are disappearing as we move toward an integrated center — which is just another way of saying that your comment is right on! I love seeing your smiling face here.

    @ Jaco

    Better ice cream than sheer, impenetrable ice. Methinks you are eminently meltable, my blogofriend. Get out the spoons!


  3. I loved reading this!. Loved the vocab you used here as well. This is yet another wonderful poem rachel! We pray for a lot of things and some of the most important prayers, are the simplest ones, which I thought was expressed here. Bravo!!


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