within - from above - and the place of hope

For the healer:
the artist of mind
and of soul,
Lives are more,
more than Stories to tell:

they are journeys of heart,
precious gifts unfolding, emerging.

And with wisdom’s insight,
he reads each body
in a language unspoken.
Reading the movement of words
for choice and precision,
the motion of breathing
for change of position,
hearing with care,
with a listening hand.

As a priest hears confessions,
the faithful cross and traverse,
The Immaculate Threshold
like people attending to worship
in a church full of hope,
incense and candles,
praying for blessing
from a friend or a brother
and preferring one chair
over another …and then there are those
who prefer to hide in a corner.

He approaches each life
with a particular attention
to the minutiae of details
within the creative construction,
looking through windows,
panes clear and transparent
while some are found clouded,
obscured.

This listener is more:
-  a guide
- a hunter
- a tracker
leading the way,
following the quarry,
chasing the shadow
wild and untamed
thru dense thick forests;
seeking, searching
camouflaged souls, hearts and minds.

Within the walls:
there is sorrow;
seeing burdens,
timely reminders,
turning color of leaves,
believing their Season
has ended.

And there is joy:
seeing weights
lifted from shoulders,
from faces
lightening brightly
within eyes
as flora budding vibrant
in the wonder of Spring.

Some come to this table
starving and devouring
each book, word, suggestion
this healer has made.
They are the hungry,
ravenous for healing.
But others who join,
are too full
of themselves
and leave as empty
as when they came in.

Some come like poets ---
lyrically lost in the music
of their own words.
Some come as actors;
pretending and playing,
rehearsing their lines
as if on stage at Carnegie Hall.

There are stories
of families, of strangers
etched into his mind
so that should they chance meet,
he would know them by sight.

Whole lives to grasp
understand, unravel, unpack
in tenderness;
then compassionately
place back
all within the small space
of just one tiny hour.

Remembering
(and forgetting)
who has said what
trying to keep it all
and keep it all simple
so all might be helped.

While, (and yet)
knowing the answers
don’t lie within him,
he coaches and coaxes
each answer
within cloistered kindness,
gentle-care quiet.
Careful to be clear;
clear as still water
transparent reflection
showing mirrored likenesses,
realities, truths revealing,
reflecting thru trust.

At the days pause,
when all becomes still;
in the quiet
tranquility
at the altar
alone,
his lips move
silently forming
a plea,
a petition,
a prayer:

“please….
bless them, love them,
gift them, as only You can;
may all...
become…..
gifted with understanding
clarity….
rising deep,
stilling turbulence
comforting sorrows
warming tomorrows
Your Presence…
Healing
flowing freely
from Above.”




    ~r.

© May 5th, 2004
R. Braley
(astralshepherd)

~