I wrote this poem after a retreat day yesterday. It was a time to reflect on the “gifts” that I have picked up along my way and to take some to reflect on the unique walk that I have been gifted with.
Home is a big word for me at the moment. I know that I will only have this one chance at life. I don’t want to to do it with an eternal frustration. I am thankful for “waking” days like the one I received yesterday.
This poem emerged from a picture from a Russian artist, “Nicholas Roerich”, and David Whyte’s poem, “What to remember when waking”.
I heard in my waking moments a new sound,
It was a voice that gently called my name,
My forgetting became my recognising,
Of the source from which my life came.
Listening each day to the voice calling me to belong,
Gave me the courage to take my first fearful steps,
To the future promised for me,
I walked along the created path,
Sometimes in silent complete aloneness,
And, sometimes in the centre of laughter shared.
Each step forward taking me back to my birth,
Every day a little closer to home,
The landscape emerging clearer each day,
As I recognise the one to whom I belong.
Home returns to my heart with greater clarity,
The walk brings discovery that home is not a place,
It’s learned in the trust of being known,
That ache felt in every human heart.
The walk is not just my journey,
I share it with some travelling friends,
And the rest of humanity,
Aloneness often accompanied by:
Fear, disappointment, despair and betrayal,
And in the laughter:
Welcoming, love, hope and trust.
All share a knowing glance with me,
The look that belongs to the one who is known,
Friends who share a common loving gaze,
Each companion a treasured part of who I am.
The walk brings gifts collected along the way,
But, the gift that is remembered least,
Is the gift of each uncertain step,
That as each one follows the other,
The steps become a path,
Given to be trod only once and only by me,
The path weaved through my life,
Is mine and belongs to only me.