This latest poem from my student, Jackie, takes us into the pain we carry. It is a sacred view into the wounding so many of us carry from very early on in life, and it is an opportunity to see how that very pain and grief can free us into our own true love.
But I’ll stop talking now. No need for too much analysis. Just enjoy, enjoy!
There’s more spiritual poetry here:
The Wound of the Beloved
From upon thy wounded source, thy Mother gave birth, and into the womb was I taken,
from eternity
and given life,
a slowly dying melody.
And upon thy grievous Father I was created,
a heartbroken child, full of all the love and energy filled inside, still pulled apart, and joined with sorrow.
and from this wellspring of sadness flows my life,
for upon it I am birthed and birthed and birthed,
renewed inside by all the tiny deaths that I endure.
And upon your smile I look at you
filled at once with an ache and an ecstasy
for you are the rapture that grows and grows
inside of me.
Yes, you are the river flowing through my veins
in sweet moments
of each day and night that comes
after the one that came.
Pierced through the heart by your unspoken words,
your cruel kindness which killed all the indifference that lived within me,
I am passionate for your temple,
which houses the quietness where we remain united.
And inside of that temple, I kiss you
and feel my own lips back into a tender nothingness
where I am at once alone with myself
while dwelling inside every “you” that could exist.
When I taste of your love,
I am lost,
living inside of being found
at home with an emptiness
which pervades all things
in the spaciousness which allows them to be
a surrendered unit,
a form with no name,
a face with no claim.
And the central teaching you gave
hidden inside of your cold
dripping
destinies
are the telling of many ancestries,
the unfolding of a lineage that was traced back to the womb before the womb.
And hidden in that womb
is the secret essence
that I feel in your nothingness
which gives everything
the love…
The love
which I cannot recount.
Not even one single utterance would bring us close enough
So I say
enter the temple which holds your grief,
carry it
and let its tears live you, alive
through their death.
Enter into the bloodstream of happiness
where there is nothing left
nothing to hold anymore
nothing to see
or taste
or touch
or smell
hold that grief sacred
in the bottom of your aching heart
until that nothingness
that darkness which sings so loud
births you
and calls your name
and hands you back your life
respectfully.
