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Soul Wringing

May 29, 2018

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In the dream, a wise man and I fall to the earth

laughing over nothing, our bellies quaking

on warm soil, the air filled with our delight.

 

He has recently been to the edge of death—

his body riddled with parasites,

and now—miraculously well again.

 

I ask him what his illness taught him.

And he says: It was an experience of soul wringing

my soul wrung out of every pride, 

 

every arrogance, every prized accolade.

I see it in his face—the way this wringing

brought his joy back, how he was restored

 

by letting go of what seemed most precious—

how now he can give himself

all he could never before receive.

 

In the dream, this man is a beloved teacher

and I, a kind of daughter learning the ways

to whole my own heart. And this soul wringing—

 

not some penance or punishment,

but more of a gracious peacemaking—

where each morning I gather

 

morning dew from the tongues of grass

and drink each drop—one by one.

©Laura Weaver

LauraWeaver.org

soulpassages.wordpress.com

 

sky

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One Comment leave one →
  1. May 29, 2018 3:19 pm

    Beautiful

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