The Golden Kiss: A DreamPoem

Golden Kiss Skeleton

dream

I descend cracked concrete stairs into a tunnel that winds under the streets of NYC.  I have some fear.  It is very dark and feels hollow.  I hear subtle rattling in the distance, the sound pinging off the damp walls, calling to me?  With every step comes a commitment to the journey and curiosity about the destination.  The longer I walk the louder the rattling.  Light ahead.  Closer…to what?  Silence.  I gingerly walk through an aperture and am greeted by several skeletons.  Each one has a gold kiss on its cheekbone.  Light from a crack in the tunnel’s ceiling wraps them in warmth.  I feel embraced, welcomed, as if they have been waiting for me for a long time.  I know I am home.  There are so many questions:  Who are they?  Why are they here?  Why have they waited for me?  Who left the kiss on their cheeks?  Before I can ask, one skeleton steps forward and offers me a loaf of bread, saying, “For the journey back up.”  I don’t want to leave, but waking life intervenes and I “feel it in my bones” that the tunnel has brought me to the mountain top.

pOEM IN DREAM

Bare Bones Truth filters into the soul
Between the tendons of our lives,
And like a hungry dog, doesn’t let go
Until it has done its work.

It gnaws down,
Pulls up,
Seals us with its golden kiss,
And heaves us back into the thick of life,
Stark but strong.

 

Before We Were Creatured

Soul Tree“…true poverty of spirit consists in keeping oneself so free of God and of all one’s works that if God wants to act in the soul, God himself becomes the place wherein he wants to act- and this God likes to do….Here, in this poverty, people attain the eternal being that they once were, now are, and will eternally remain.” Meister Eckhart Sermon Fifteen

This time Meister Eckhart describes the goal of the spiritual journey as a radical letting go of all ego entrapments so that if God wants to act in the soul, God becomes the place wherein God wants to act. This is the GodPlace where we existed before we were creatured.

The poem I share here emerged after the death of my parents, many years ago. Since then I have experienced enough “ego-deaths” to fuel a massive funeral pyre! Every time we choose Spirit over ego, we die a little and are born a little, becoming more authentically our true selves.

November

Leaves reign down
Waiting, Mutating,
Leaving long limbs
Exposed like raw pain.
“The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.
Blessed be the name of the Lord?”

Blessed be.
Blessed be
Because pain
Weathers well.

As leaves to earth
We return to the
Genes of our souls
Bare, not barren,
Becoming at last
Who we always were.

Rita Hemmer Kowats