The Power of Words -- A Poem



I came home like a flame with no wood to kiss
When kind Words sat me down to reminisce
About a time I would become so incensed
I could almost wet myself in complicated bliss.

“Don’t ask me why fury triggered me,”
I said as I wiped dust from my cheek,
“Ire inspired a weird ecstasy, a spike in my serenity.
Tell me, Words, is this an occupational hazard?
A writer’s dysfunctional motif, or a terrible hurt?
A dominating impulse that I must dominate?
A cause for the devil, or a way to laughter?”

Words pondered beside me on the seat,
Staring in reverie at the flowers by her feet.
Inside the garden, gardenia danced with crooning birds
And a whispering stream played as I heard dear Words,
Who parted her lips, smiled, and this came forth,
“As youngest child in a family that argued for sport,
Your tongue learned to parry, tangle and thrust,
To make yourself loved more than hated,
How much you yearned to think and evaluate.
Be like the grown-ups, looking everywhere
For causes and mistakes so you could compare.”

“You’re right,” I said. “It delighted me,
Finding holes and errors in others’ ideas.
But why? What an odd infatuating disease!”

“My dear,” said Words, “It made you forget
That it was you who needed repair.
You felt incomplete and ashamed,
You were conditioned to blame or be blamed,
For you were in a picture frame
That thwarted your perceiving this whole game.

Her arms opened and a veil lifted so we could see
A valley of emerald dreamcatchers and candlelit prayer trees
With lavender, gold, and evergreen leaves.

“The real source of the fury, the fearful rage,
Is the voice inside you, the One with no age,
Crying because you do not realize
That you create reality when you visualize.
Don’t be a searcher wrapped in discontent,
Feeding on strife, no longer in love with life,
When there’s so much collaborating to do!
Repair! Relent! Surmount! Repent!
Drown in the beauty. Touch their loving faces.
See the possibilities, in this, the present.”

Words finished and handed me a gift.
“So is this the present?” I ask of her empty hand.
“Very funny. But it’s not a thing,” she says,
“It’s an energy, a sacred lift.
The heartflame of life doesn’t need outrage
Breathing in and breathing out will turn the page.
Just the Breath of Fire will burn away the cage,
All that’s left is you – embraced by sacred space.”

Words wasn’t telling me how to light my fire
So now I am miffed at her, and glory be,
I feel again the hellchoir, the lust to disagree!
“And what is there to do?” I accuse.
Carry on despite the propaganda?
Understand on the verandah smelling allamanda?
Curry favor with Satchitananda?
Pretending the dark side can get away with lies?
Totalitarian deceit?
Not so sweet!”

Words smiled, knowing I knew full well
What words have said so many times before:
“The only way to change the world is to change your eyes first,
To look at how you see and what you see with,
Feel your eyes. Are they hard or soft?
See the frame with fresh new insight.
That is the revolutionary thing to do.
The dark side will try to grind and blind you.”
Words said. “Confound and bind you.
The dark side will contend it doesn’t hurt you,
That it doesn’t even exist, at least not inside.
The Dark Side claims the darkness
Grows outside, like power and authority,
And if you believe that, you lust to trust
In things outside of you, which weakens you,
For you can never find the peace of your Soul out there.

“Authentic power, like the dark side, arises first within.
The first wheel invented, singing, toast, the idea of church
All came from somebody’s consciousness opening wide.
The Soul sows spirit seeds to make you thrive.
A Growth Mindset waters the seeds.
You grow, move, relate fluidly, scattering
Johnny Apple Seeds of care and creativity.
A Fixed Mindset strangles new growing,
To keep a limited false ego self alive.
Geared to rigidify, blame, and shame,
The Fixed Mindset addicted to Fossil Fuels
Is making a killing as the dealer, deflecting with lies
To divert attention from your species’ eco-cide.
Burning dead animals courts planetare collapse,
But if you fall in love with the present,
You can pull yourself up by your blissstraps.”

“Blisstraps? Like bootstraps? What a great idea!” I say.

“Yes, blisstraps! And you will need them.
The dark side is using Fixed Mindset people
To spread their mayhem.
Because that’s the way things are,
That’s the way things are done,
Have always been done,
And if you think otherwise you are misinformed.”

“That’s sad,” I say. Words replies:
“Which is why we need blisstraps.”
Words turned to me with eyes of Divine Love,
Gazing deeply into me.
“Growth Mindset people like you look
For new ways to vibrate the harmony above.
And you already have all you need.
If you find the answer to the question,
‘What gets in your way?’”

“Easy,” I say. “My own dark side, my inner shadow gets in the way.”

“So remember this,” Words elaborates.
“You can only learn what the dark side wants by asking
‘What are you trying to protect?’
And is there a better guardian, a new belief,
Who would serve you better than the Complainer-in-chief?
Get agreement to Transition to the new guardian power..
Know the spirit who is more like the real you, not so dour.”

This moved me so much I knew immediately:
“The dark side is trying to protect my child from feeling like
I’m not tough enough
I’m not hard enough.
I’m not smart enough.
I’m not enough.”

Tears were streaming down Words’ face.
“That is so untrue. You are so enough.”
She giggled and hugged me.
I was laugh-crying in glee.
We cuddled and then we hand-danced,
Until an owl appeared on a branch.
Words stood up like Wonder Woman,
Hands on hips with joyful elbows out,
“Can’t you see? What a sight is your dark side?”
She placed her hands in mine
Lifted me to stand, to walk with her.

“You had to do battle with interrogators in youth.
Protecting is learned behavior. But is that now your truth?
Does it really protect anything at all?” Words shook her head.

“Yes,” I say. “The hellchoir protects the child,
The time crystal inside, the vulnerable one.”

I turned around, saw the forest mirroring sun beams.
A universe stitched of matter and friendly dreams.
Turning back to Words, I say, “Words, will you be the
Guardian for my vulnerable child?”

“I already am, always was, and always will be
For as long as we both shall live.
Which is a long, long time.”

With that, Words sparkled into crystals, melted into love,
And became waves that flowed in an ocean of Light.
I kneel down and feel the power of Words,
Raise my arms to the sky, kiss fire, and know my ground.

Realized by Marya 11/14/2020

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