Lay Priest: Perspectives; a poem
For: Michael Rice
out of shadowland we grasp at
pin pricks of light, claim
a dogma; disclaim another’s…judging…
Within our perspective we judge.
With other brothers, we sought our limits
illumined by the midnight
sun, we probed
community to its
nexus…in an individual’s
dance within his shadows…
Fears and tears, hysteria and laughter
the pulse particularly
deep, communal light particularly
bright, contracts, written on the blackboard sky
with our expanding
commitments to advance
out of a dismal ego swamp, where
light wavers over unsteady images
in the swill of the murky matter?
It is love’s lack…
love’s aftermath, children
drilled, drugged, deadmeat
in the bitterness of perspectives
in old parental clots, earth rent…
no reverence, ego wreaking ruin of ages
ages old, ages in the learning, burning ages.
Ohhh… Dads! Mothers! Were that you
were here…now – at our fireside even here at our hip…
getting down into these swirling waters.
I’m giving no lip, Dad! Mom! Oh, you two…
please sit and sip with me the peace
that Luna sheds upon our shadows…
There is nothing hidden, hiding here
lost here, here is too much light
within shadows, we can always find
our way out if a mind drops
ego’s needs, if a heart drops
open, if a being lets go of fear…
Beings meet, knowing the old hymns
old rituals, old celebrations innate
picking up all that was forgotten
opening again. Yes, again
opening horizons in the blood
enlivening the pulse…we’re
That we were destined to be…!
Again… As we were at birth!
Qutbuddin Loren Ruh Smith
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