Well! Much has transpired since my last post, including:
(1) a healing in which I believe every remaining vestige of trauma from a 2003 car crash (no accident!) was backed out of my physical, emotional, and etheric bodies;
(2) a birthday that seemed literally to rewind the tape of my life to a period in which I felt free to create, express, manifest, give and receive love, and exist without massive interference and obstruction at every turn; and
(3) the passing of my mother, who had spent the past six years “walking in two worlds” (Alzheimer’s/dementia). She and I were doubly blessed, as she transitioned easily and without suffering, and I was gifted with the exquisite experience of
being present for her final eleven hours.
This poem was written after the aforementioned (1) and (2)– and, in retrospect, I can see how those events prepared me for the initiation of event (3) and
helped to move me decisively into “The New.”
To you alone this confession I make,
I did not come here to be entertained into slack-jawed obscurity –
Even in the midst of a talkative crowd I seek to sink my line deeply into divine waters,
The jib-jabbery of distraction bludgeons the sanctity of a poised silence
Yet more times than I care to count, I have wielded the weapon well.
Between you and me and no one else,
I have time and again led myself into a corner of self-created separatism,
Predisposed by an ardent architecture of spirit that renders instrumentation askew –
But I grant you willingly that I knew no other way!
And this I will not deny.
Of my own volition I allow,
I have walked the plank with my heart jitterbugging in the palm of my hand,
Neural ribbons clogged and jammed with the rush-hour crawl of chemistry –
More than once I raced past Persephone’s daughters arrayed in primrose yellow,
Drawn without regret to the siren song that tempts all but the greatest among us.
I will not feign a surrogate truth,
The weight of alienation has pinned my wings in the loam of this gravity-rich orb,
Pinched me into a frantic gasping to kiss without end the breath of the sacred
And now, with but a reed-thin parting of my lips,
A long, sinewy outbreath leads into the crystalline pool of the One.