This poem is dedicated to the souls that have moved through or are currently in the "chrysalis" of learning the wisdom of love. It is within our own personal journey, our personal ego deaths and rebirths, that we learn how to truly meet one another in that space "out beyond rightdoing and wrongdoing" as the great Sufi poet, Rumi, says.
With palms outstretched
I beckoned, Love
“open me”.
Awaiting a kiss from god herself
to sweetly imprint
the wisdom of Love
into my irises.
Abruptly, I was knocked
onto my knees breathless.
I crippled down till my cheek
sunk into the moist soil
my feet used to stand upon.
Slithering and writhing on the earth,
eye to eye
with the same cockroaches
I often exiled from my home.
Learning to hiss
humbleness as my name.
When the childhood wounds
thickened with scar tissue
open up again
spitting out the worthlessness
that has been quietly rotting inside for all
these lifetimes,
that's when I began to know love.
She is the unwavering gaze
that embraces
the faces of anger and ugliness
and utters “I love you”
This is a one way street.
When she comes to you,
the wisdom of love,
comes to take.
She takes the
impenetrable comfort
you were cloaked in.
What she gives you,
is the dire need to remember love.
A death doula in training,
learning how to hold
the white knuckled hands
clenched in both the
welcoming
and exiting of
life.
The seed of love is planted into you,
birthed into this world
through your humanness
your flesh and blood
your willingness to feel...
..and once you break open enough
for both birth and death
to circulate
within your human heart,
then you will know what it means,
to sit with the wounded.
Through the tending to your own wounds,
you open to the wisdom of love.
Poem by: Jordyn Roe
