Peering Into the Heart

I had a heart catheter procedure done this week. What an amazing experience to be awake and see a living picture of the inside of one's own heart in real time. I am especially grateful to be breathing freely and to share my life with you here. Here is a poem I wrote the next morning while recovering. To The Beloved, who is within everything:

Heart Catheter

Whoosh, Whoosh, Whoosh

I peered into your mystery,

the flesh cave where you live.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh

is your whispering song.

Your current, your flood called my true name.

I am spun in your eyes.

I am the fluttering wings of your tears.

I am at home inside you inside me.

Maybe this is the new day, Beloved?

Maybe this is the first day?

Maybe this is the last?

All I want is to be with you.

Circuits of dream are

depositing layer upon layer

of life enriching memory

within the walls of the secret labyrinth,

where we walk together,

where we fly in the morning light,

where we sing as the winged and the free.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

What am I searching for?

Who do I see in the darkness of my chest?

I found the place where you live.

In a dreamy haze I saw you!

With feather and fluttering mouth,

your dark secret revealed,

your longing alive in me,

beyond sense and convention.

Your song a flood within me.

The portal of our longing is

finally opened to the wide world.

Fly within me, Beloved.

Take me into your secret vows.

Love me in this sunny place.

Love me in the darkest place.

I faint.

I fall back.

I spin at your midnight touch.

I am lost in the veins.

I am red and salty.

I am found in living breath.

I am loved in the death of someday.

I am one wing of two,

arcing through the grace

of blood and bone.

I am this until the portal is open forever.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh…

Then I am everything you are.

Love, 

Rick

(c) Copyright Richard Sievers, Image and Words, May 2016.

Days 9-10 You Say...I Say

If you receive a version of this blog sent by email press the title link to see the blog in its full format. This posting is a segment of my ongoing series Two Weeks in an American Ashram begun in November 2012. To see the previous entries just scroll down or click on Journal Archive at the right. 

Heard in Prayer:

Child of mine:

You say that you have not done enough to match my grace.

My Grace is sufficient; that's why it's called grace.

You say that you have mostly failed in your callings.

I say that by Grace you serve 

and by Grace you offer what you will.

You say that your mind wanders too much, 

that you are too much a hermit and too little a friend.

I say that my Grace fills the space between your words.

I say that you are beloved on earth.

I say you are wholly mine.

I say you are a strand 

in the very fabric of my purpose 

here in this world of now.

Peace,
Rick

(c) Copyright Richard Sievers, February 2013, All Rights Reserved.