THE WOUNDING

You were content up there
With your white picket fence,
Your ducks in a row.
Life as it should be.

Suddenly, and without warning,
A fissure in your tidy world broke open,
Deep…wide…and messy.
Chaos and debris everywhere.

Plunging into the Underworld,
Where light is dim and air is dank,
Sleepy naïveté disappears forever.
Yet down there is the real treasure.

Heroes of ancient myths had tools,
–And you have them, too,
Made for slaying monsters in the deep.
Remember you, too, are human…and part god.

Take your eyes off of all others.
Hold the polished shield up to your own face.
This fall has shattered you, yes.
The jagged pieces will form a stunning mosaic.

Lean on Something Bigger and channel that power.
Feel what demands to be felt.
No more numbing, distracting and escaping.
The only thing dying now is ego–let it be.

When idols have been annihilated,
And all the tears have been cried,
You’ll rise to the surface again,
But know that you’ll not be the same.

The kingdom will be within you,
Its treasures seared on a softer heart.
No longer merely breathing,
You’ll finally be truly alive.

Don’t waste such suffering–
The whole world is being wounded.
Compassion and mercy will flow in your blood,
So, maybe, once in a while… offer it up a vein.

–Bev Hawari
April 30, 2020