We enter in
shifting, unknown, uncharted, yet to be
determined ways.
Breath we have. Spark and salt, flesh and bone
alive – and that is mostly triumph.
So happens again and again as we go,
the ground surrounding, by some turn, is laid bare
of once familiar forms.
But there is no such thing as traversing alone,
as they say we come, or as they say we leave
(not so those either).
Still, you have to go through
your own disillusionment. I’m sorry for that.
But that’s not the test – it will be something more like:
once through, did you salvage your child mind?
Can you respond once more with trust or hope,
with generosity or mercy, in your world since-revealed?
A trading of parts, being part, and taking part, is this life.
And you already embody the whole Holy-within revelation.
This, and the stars in you, is all true.
For some thread of finest spark, Wisdom spun,
and handed along,
bursts with torch brilliance when held
aloft. Lights the paths of many. Yours too,
who once received. Pass it.
That’s all. And when you see
its brighter-yet spinning and higher-yet reaching
in the hands of another and another
after that,
be joyful. Your burden was Light,
your work well done.
This poem appears courtesy of “The Clue of the Red Thread, discovering fearlessness and compassion in uncertain times” By Julie Tallard Johnson,
with wisdom from Parker J. Palmer. Published by Shanti Arts and Nine Rivers Press.
http://www.shantiarts.co/uploads/files/jkl/JOHNSON_CLUE.html
