To The One Who Listens, Spring 2008

I want to be found. I will sing the song of remembering and walk into the patches of light that mark my way, searching for solace and finding kinship once again with my own soul. Just as I learned to experience again in this world, without my sight, so I will patiently relearn to see with inner sight and wind my way back to the origin of my belonging. I will reconstruct the bare bones of my living out loud. From there I will venture on, beyond all I have known, beyond the thoughts and feelings of other people, and past the fields that stretch beyond that, with their tall grasses, where lost ones are no longer empty, where there is no scarcity of freedom, where I am once again mine.

I want to be found. For I hunt like the wolf and gather like the squirrel. I am the core of the apple, the heartwood of the oak, and the acorns squirrels gather. I am the running and the taking, I am the giving and receiving. I am the end of hunger. I am my own pathfinder.

I want to be found. So it is that I live and die and am reborn, to race the wind, dance with the passions of the flames, whose truth falls like ash upon the earth. From whose spark of truth I rise, I will rise, I will send my cries across the waves, singing out clear the voices of the many colors, the song light weaves throughout the world which mends, and heals the brokenness until I remember I have always been whole.

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3 thoughts on “To The One Who Listens, Spring 2008

    1. Thank you, Ali! 2008 was actually quite a difficult time. I reached the end of trying what I now know is the unsuccessful way of attempting to go it alone. Everything became so clear, in a wordless sort of way, and I just reached out, unable to name anything, willing to do just about anything to finally be centered again. I knew enough to write the intention, and then I literally forgot about it for years and only came across those words again a couple months ago. Incredibly, or not surprising as it may be, that intention has become the reality of the unfolding life I am living. It actually still amazes me how such seemingly small moments can turn out to be so important and you just never know which ones, or when, or why. But that’s the mystery, never entirely knowing. 🙂

      1. I know what you mean. I still remember the day where I had the ‘epiphany’ about accepting the effect Carys had made on my life. It was such a small, insignificant moment, completely invisible to anyone, but so life changing to me. It made me feel different, like I had let in happiness and was light-filled. Its not a happy ever after ending though, its something I continue to work at. But thats what your poem reminded me of.

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