I have become the rot of the forest:
a tree fallen and stretched across the rivers edge,
to the punishing force of gravity.
I look into the rippling waters that run only inches below,
turning my eye back on itself
desires that I may look continually upon my own carcass.
But what kind of friend is this,
who continually reminds me of both my pitiful submission to this rotting death,
as well as the increasingly distant memories of my former glorious stature?
The mystery of the waters silence speaks neither
compassion or malicious enjoyment but
instead mutely and endlessly voices this truth: it is so.
As I surge and gnash behind my cage of oak,
I come to know with certainty that
the heart that subjects me to such a fate as this is surely twisted.
a warmness settles like dust upon my back
silencing my restlessness graciously.
The sun has emerged out of the cloud cover.
the tips of my limbs down to my first formed roots
Looking into the channel again,
who appears now ignited in the waters below: I am
clothed in strands of molten gold that shift with the churning of the river,
transforming my dead wood into the glistening likeness of divinity itself.
While I revel in the glory of my sunlit portrayal,
I believe, however not in my forethought's,
that my body as it exists apart from the image in water remains still as bleak as ever.
But in this, I assume incorrectly.
Were I to step out and into the third person I might know this,
but from the confines of this vantage point
I am spellbound in ignorance.
who stands looking on at the rivers edge,
It is my desire that he would experience my glory as I now behold it,
that we might share in this blessed perception together.
The mystery of his silence speaks just as the running waters had before,
but the gentle intent of his focus invites in hope: I believe
he does behold it, perhaps even in ways that I, myself, will never know
-- And the imagining of his knowing makes it as true and comforting as though it were my own. Â
While we are confined to one fixed perspective, this is a holy propulsion towards community. If I held all wisdom and lacked nothing, you would have nothing of value to offer to me because I know no real need; your words and actions toward me would carry no weight. Our bonds are strengthened by the gifts we receive from others and the gifts we give to others. In this world, none of us are meant to be complete on our own but rather, we are destined to approach wholeness as a gradual crescendo composed with those we love and share life with. Pride then proves to be the stagnation of growth; it is self-inflicted isolation that removes us from a symbiotic relationship we are meant to experience with others.
Ours is a blessed imperfection. However, in our world there is great injustice that only the merciless remain unmoved to heal. It is by acknowledging our need for healing that we enter into our symbiotic relationship; it is by recognizing our own emptiness that we become aware of the emptiness present in all others and so become united with the purpose of healing and serving each other in communion.
