Come to me in a thousand ways,
A thousand moments,
A thousand places,
Pools of knowingness,
Deepest, no less,
Particles of truth,
My doubts to soothe.
Come to me in a thousand ways,
A thousand moments,
A thousand places,
Fear keeps us apart,
Open my heart,
Faith brings us closer,
Joy unites us.
Author's Note: This is a poem I started several weeks ago but just completed yesterday. Every poem I write is about something that I have observed and experienced in my life. It could be a behaviour, an attitude, a situation, a sign that made me think and analyze over and over again.
I was struggling over my emotions and my understanding of myself, my soul work, questioning where I went wrong when I thought I had begun to get it right, I was guided to pick up the book that gave me the answer and the video that gave me the answer. It is said that when the student is ready, the teacher appears.
It was written somewhere that God speaks to us in many ways, not just through any particular "religious/historical" book. Perhaps it is because I was born with a quiet spirit and interests in the arts: music, dancing, painting, writing. This quiet spirit of mine instilled a lot of conflict within me. It was a setback at home, in school, in college, with the guys, with the teachers, with the management, with society -- not too often praised, but perhaps appreciated by some once in a while.
Yet, my American "mom," Sharon, spending time with me during my college years, was the only one who told me she noticed it and described me as being sensitive to my surroundings, having a spiritual gift. She saw that I appreciated the beauty and colours of nature, I could write about it and talk about it. I was flattered but I didn't understand how it could be a spiritual gift. Even though I longed to be close to God, to be loved by him, and to be treated as special, I thought that God didn't even know my name. Not many people did, either. When others talked about literally hearing God speak to them, or through a church leader, or seeing angels, or given God's healing, I never had any close encounters with God. It was as if I was forever assigned to sit in the back row. I was just an audience and not a participant.
After a relationship breakup that crashed all the fragile concepts I had of what my life was supposed to be, I left church and refused to read anymore official religious documents. In a rebellious sort of way, I wanted to experience what the "unGodly" and "sinful" were going through. I wanted to see and hear God through other people, through other authors that wrote "wrong teachings;" through the clouds, and the trees, the music in the dance clubs, and through the movies....
One thing led to another. Recently, as I was wondering how to find my answers, I noticed that words were reminding me that this Universe is ours to experience, as we all are soul fragments of the larger God -- "made in the likeness of God" -- then, why wasn't I behaving as if? That, when we ask, it is given. The answer is always there. Can we miss it? No. Because it will come in many ways, again and again. Just open my eyes, my ears, my heart, my soul to find the answer to my question.
This poem is about my understanding of where and how to find my answer. And if I desired it, I will find it.
