All is hidden,
And nothing is at it seems.
Confusion seems to abide
Discomfort, my only choice.
Where has the light gone?
Where is my peace?
I wonder as I wander through the forest's gloom
Searching for a way out,
Looking for an answer...the Answer.
I seek to set a path, straight and narrow and am rewarded with cuts and scrapes on my already bloody legs.
I trip and I tangle, and struggle to stay upright.
I am led deeper and deeper into the darkness,
The sun is gone from sight.
My hands have become my eyes as I reach blindly in front of me.
I find the bark, the wrinkled skin of an Old Wizened One.
I caress her tall body and throw my arms around her crying.
"Oh help, do help!"
"Rest", she tells me, "Rest in my roots".
I allow myself to slowly sink to her base and find myself weeping.
Her own tears, as leaves, flutter down to me and comfort my weary being.
I lay my head on her breast and hear the heartbeat of my green Mother,
And I sleep.
I sleep the sleep of a babe in her mother's arms and am awakened with the song of the Morning Dove.
My eyes are heavy and swollen and struggle to open.
I look up and I smile.
She has not left me, she guarded me the night through.
"Rise, dear one and set yourself on your journey once again."
I hesitate to answer, wondering if I must and if I can.
"Why can I not stay here with you? Why can I not make my home at your feet?"
"Dear one, despair not, you will find me again, although perhaps by another name.
I may not appear the same, but know me you will.
I am the moss and the herb.
I am your song and your dance.
I am you and you are me.
You will hear my voice, you will feel my life and you will know my touch.
Do not fret the journey ahead and rely on no map, for there are none.
Simply quiet yourself and listen for the whisper of my heart.
Then you will not worry about the path, for there are many.
You will not worry about home, because you are here.
You will not despair and fear for I will be where ever you lay your head.
Partake of me and be enlivened once again."
I again shed tears.
I want to believe, but my faith was lost among the thorn bushes.
I want to trust, but my strength is gone.
Once again I lay at her roots, my tears watering them deeper and deeper.
Her tears mingle with mine and I am blanketed by them, resting once again.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
All is hidden,