A Prose Prayer Poem
The days stretch before me, glorious and bright. When the rains come, they are welcome, the land drinks. I am content. Despite years of Britain's sodden pastures and dark clouds, a land still held in thrall to foreign gods.
Am I under some grand holy spell? Perchance an Angel has called me to this southern landscape, where turkey vultures make significant circles in the sky and flashing cardinals warn me of false steps.
Eagle Angel, you have called me to this place, so familiar now after mere months of attendance. The peach gold evening skies, the ebony dark, the balm of spring becoming. This atmosphere reeks of the nectar of the Sacred.
Re-self discovery is in the order of things.
My feet bare upon hot soil. Summertime memories of my childhood in continental Ontario.
All the creatures greet me, reminding me of other, more ancient times, before the stench of car and the distant drone of plane.
Your guidance is welcome in this time of grace. The same guidance, the same grace surrounding me upon arrival in the Findhorn Community in Northeast Scotland and in The Ancient Avalon, Glastonbury, Somerset, England. First refinding, reawkening, the self experienced there long ago. The old stories, the old pains, enhanced by the passage of time, and then transcended.
With such reconnection arises a sweetness resembling the aroma from some forgotten flower first recognized in youth.
This time passes, too quickly.
The warrior returns, fighting battles to keep the land intact, honour rivers and trees, offer a just inheritance to children so they may raise children. So peace and prosperity will last beyond one selfish generation. All at the mercy of men lacking integrity, who have sold their souls to some disguised devil with a wily rationale. Their sleeping wives who support their husbands' false claim that land is theirs to do with whatever they will, with no counting the cost. Who have not made the link between the pocket book, the purse and the planet's resources. Whose green eyes belie their politics.
In the face of this certain righteous anger in the Temple of the Living Earth, I pray that this wondrous state of grace prevail to provide me with the strength to embody the courage and wisdom with which to understand and enact the task set for me at this time, in this sacred place.
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