Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Forward to the Beginning: He Speaks (a poem)

Sweeter beginnings were never had,
offerings of opening and softening,
wonderings of kisses and warmth of bodies.

If I enter the temple that is Becoming Us,
what will happen there?

Stilling hearts, expectant for God,
skin worshipping skin,
heart worshipping heart.
We know, we know, the preciousness of this.

How few can even see it,
how few can touch that unfolding, beating heart inside,
the eternal Center, the Source . . .
then breathe it into the Beloved?

we do.

I sought, I sought
the touch of a soft and surrendering woman,
I sought God in my bed,
and found her reflected in the eyes of the one who opened to me.

Her hands speak an ancient sign language
the sweetness in her touch calls me
to rise up to enter her,
prayers escape her lips as she drinks sacred water
at the temple altar.

Prayers of Life lived, journeys traveled,
burning and purifying.
All of who I was, now ash,
who I am becoming
forged in the white-hot fire of this Love.

All I ever wanted to be,
alone and in love with him,
to cherish deeply
this person I had ignored.

"the gift you gave was me"
said the god to the goddess.
"the gift you gave was me"
she replied.