The Healing
Shattered shards of beauty
Weep silently at the rending
Then gush great fountains of tears
For the wounds made by
Hammers of youth, of family, of circumstance
Which broke the luminous mold.
But, lo, He is bringing the jagged pieces,
Still pulsing with divine light,
Together.
They tremble, first touching,
Then pull away in fear.
What will it be like to be whole?
To show forth the Light
As was meant from ages long past?
Perhaps the energy will be too great--
Perhaps, coalescing, it will explode.
The thing of beauty is too wonderful to behold.
How much easier to gaze upon
The broken remnants!
But slowly, irresistibly, they come together
In Him.
I am finally who I was meant to be — the created.
And I am not afraid to look.
Claire
I came to you
In Claire
I will come again
In another.
You were kind,
An excellent master
Of My manifestation.
You will be rewarded
For your steadfastness
In My creation.
Go now
And grieve
But do not waste time
In despair.
I am ever new,
Ever changing,
Ever creating
Joyfully!
I am Claire
And Claire is I.
Her essence
Will always be alive
And you will see her again.
She has taught
You much from Me,
And she has
More to teach.
Love is all.
You have loved
Her here.
I love her
From all time.
A poem written for a dear friend whose precious elderly cat died.
The Shining
Two brilliant lights
Swimming in God
Made of God
Spin toward each other.
Why do they slow
Then come to rest
Beside each other
In the inky vastness?
Love shines from one to the other
Channeling hope, love, truth.
There they remain
Until the healing is done.
Hope and truth and love
All three
Standing in eternity
All hitched a ride
On an arc of light
A tiny morsel of humanity.
Transformation
Once the path seemed so clear
Through all the brambles
And dense undergrowth.
But I noticed as I hacked
My way through it,
Making judgments,
Giving ultimatums
About the truth as I saw it,
I left angry welts on those
I encountered on the way—
Sometimes ugly gashes,
Watering the earth with crimson.
Even the vegetation seemed to cry out
At my harshness.
Mystery has now settled over the path;
Unknowing often reigns.
And I consider much
Before my machete
Comes down.
The briars now do indeed
Draw my own blood.
I cry countless tears.
But, oddly, joy
Even compassion
Wells up in me
For those I meet along the path.
I cut carefully, mindfully
Around them as I go.
No longer do I hurt them.
We move along together
Toward that Brightness
Only the soul can see.