Feet at the Shoreline

I welcome this change, though I know it not

coming as it does from the depths that call us to heal.

I know not where I am as all before me unfolds

like wings of a bird preparing for flight, trembling

then the sudden rush of air under lifting wings..

The rush of knowing, yet not knowing

the echoing of old voices, old snapshots

flowing behind, through and beyond me.

A river of tears for that which hurt, that which teaches, that which mends

all the streams of light that are this life.

My ancestors are now seeing me as I am, grasping my aching love

and returning it to me, “Keep on!” they call, “keep on!”

I sensed there was something, my soul

holding with me in perfect resonance,

while the voice inside was clouded by distrust

in a besieging world where so much seemed lost,

swept away by strong winds, strong voices,

a world turned bittersweet

made a quieter truth seem dispensable.

Yet standing here again by the water, palms raised,

I am held by a quiet presence..

Feet at the shoreline, the water ripples into stillness,

remembering the bodhisattva

walks the sacred path while in the world

amidst the light and the darkness.

She says “hold strong, trust the shore on which you stand

and trust what’s still to be revealed.”

A hand reaches out, inviting me into the calm of evening,

offering a warm cup by the fire.

Gathering my lost child into my arms,

I hold her until our heartbeats converge as one.

A revelation:  my soul is my home in the world, the one that knows all is well.

Friends and angels accompany me as I begin again

to listen to the voice inside,

content to be… still here, still grateful,

giving from the overflow.

Sophia