Healing Arts

Make me Whole

Shazia — Sun, 13 Mar 2011 06:53:55 +0000

The need has always been there, its voice loud and proud.

Its footsteps heavy, leaving imprints and marks wherever they tread.

Look at me! See me! Hear me! Feed me with kind words! And your gentle touch. Be here so that I can feel whole again.

I need you! And louder… Can’t you see, I need you!

And if you cannot fulfill my wish, I will grow cold, and I will turn my back. I will punish you, because you have failed.

And then, alone, I cry silent tears of disappointment, of longing, of terror.

What if I never find that which fills me up and makes me whole.

And it gets worse when I start to dig deep, and wonder. Can the void ever be filled with sidewalk glances and words like mist. Because in that moment they hold me, contain me, wrap me in a blanket of warmth and comfort. And just like that, it passes.

Like a death. A hundred thousand deaths. No more. And I fear, I will be no more.

The sky at night, waiting for the stars to appear, one by one, slowly, and then just as silently as they came disappear. And once again. The vastness of empty.

Pause, Breathe. Wait. Look again.

With tilted head. What is this vastness, if not abundance itself?

Abundance does not wait, or need to be filled.

Maybe this vastness of empty is Abundance itself. This enormity of *potential* space is Love itself.

This vastness of empty is activation at rest. The beginnings of the night sky, at dusk. In moments, it will be a kindred to the ocean that sparkles as the sunlight dances on its surface.

Maybe this vastness of empty is Abundance itself.

This *potential* space is Whole itself.

"Make me Whole" Image by Sahar Mohamed

Indigent

Shazia — Wed, 24 Nov 2010 11:41:14 +0000

I breathe You in, and breath You out.
You waft through me like fresh air.
You are balm that heals my wounds.
My wounds are of faithlessness – of not trusting enough.
I held on to hope. I guess that too was faith.
Now I know I have to let you go.
And that is also a task of faith.

Please help me.
For I am soiled with doubt.
I seek Your solace and strength.
The pain is doubt. A lack of faith.
I am wounded by faithlessness.
My pain is worry that You may forget me, that You may forsake me.
But how can You forsake me? How can You forget me?
For I am Your child.
Your precious child.
Who came into this world naked, indigent, speechless, mindless.

And here I am grown – strong, empowered.
As I mark the lives of others.
Yet, and yet… I cannot alter my own.

Armor

Shazia — Mon, 22 Nov 2010 13:22:31 +0000

I wear my vulnerability like armor protecting me from arrogance and detachment.

Freedom, no more

Shazia — Mon, 22 Nov 2010 12:08:23 +0000

What is this thing you call freedom, I ask.

Freedom to choose, freedom to flee, freedom to say no, freedom to be.

Freedom to roam, freedom to hail, freedom to risk, freedom to fail.

Freedom to cower, freedom to hide, freedom to neglect, and freedom to chide.

I want not of this thing you call freedom, I say.

It enslaves me, desolates me, reduces me to a void.

It cracks me, it scrapes me, and peels off my skin.

It’s a free fall into nothing, nowhere, and in between.

It’s a vacuous hole with no end in sight.

…………………………………………………………………………..

Freedom is an illusion, mythical fantasy of sorts.

For life is bound by death like the the day is bound by night.

Light is covered by the nighttime sky like happiness is thwarted by disappointment and frustration.

My love is torn by selfishness for it is you I seek in times of need.

How can I be free at all when I am bound by any given circumstance.

………………………………………………………………………….

Bind me, enslave me, make me Your shadow.

My spirit gleams when it is but a reflection of Your Grace.