Traveling between wounds
we pause, make some space in time,
allow the evening pall to be laid over us,
darkness tucked up under our chin,
a stillness purely granted, lowering us
into a well deeper than thought.
Out of the shadows comes another,
strange, but our own.
We’ve kept in shadows, so thought
we had no shadow, but now
it seizes us, grapples, as if
not to destroy but to hold us
to something. We grapple,
not to defend but to hold it
so we can see it. What is it
that knows us better than we do,
that knows our weak spots,
that has such a grip on us?
Our heaven and our earth thrash
like desperate lovers
mirrored, cheek to cheek,
not to conquer but to alter.
There is no victory, only embrace.
As morning light unfolds
the mystery recedes again to shadow,
but not without a blessing, a name.
What we wrestle with
makes us.
We limp gracefully
into our
broken
open future.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:
Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 1:34 — 2.1MB)