Sunday, August 5, 2012

An Offering to the Holy Composter of Grief

    On behalf of our sons and daughter
    On behalf of a family history of grief
    On behalf of generational trauma
    On behalf of a History that wrote itself into the script of those tropical islands 
    On behalf of the civilization that wounds us

    I beseech the Ancestors on the other side who hear us
     Please hear the music of our lamentations
     See the beauty we are trying to create out of the cracks of this modern life
     Feel the depths of our soul in our elegant struggle to be beautiful and whole

     One Son  creates beauty in the patch of land he lives on
     Soul is nourished by the colors and the energies of the plant beings
     Equally sensitive to   his touch and loving attention
     And as for the litany of feelings of rejection, disrespect, disaffection 
     May these be washed in the knowing that one's true nature is not these.
     If patience and endurance is the fate of this lifetime
     May the love that he gives be returned by the divine source in the heart of Nature
    As for a mother's tears
    This, too,  is a blessing
     To share in the fate of so many
     Without succumbing to the seduction of self-pity, shame, guilt
     Beauty is still the song in our lips.

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