Awakening

I.

On a recessed and murky wall
the slate shadow of a lone ballerina stood
waiting to wed her anima and animus
hid beneath her ruffled skirt.

Questions arose from the shadows
during her wait:
what occurred when I was young?
when did I become someone?

Was I an item on a grocery list
something rushed home to refrigerate
a child my parents chose to flagellate?
Is this how I fell out of love?

Am I this wall or it a part of me?
I hold the masculine
but my "me" maps other memories

II.

Yearning to be touched by the masculine sprite
in regions her psyche long suppressed
she faced the truth beneath her dress

Then dancing upon shattered stone and rock
her wobbly feet choreographed her release
forming movements in swirls of grey
till the red morn rose on the eastern rise
spilling light into her awakening world
warming her body to the presence of Love



*Jerusalem is a mystery, which may be why people embellish it with so much that is subjective.  People can never leave a mystery alone.  They cannot stand in front of it and let it be.  They cannot stand in front of the unknown.  They always make something else out of it, something it is not.  They bring to it their expectations, their dreams, their books, their Judaism, their Islam, their Christianity. They fill it and fill it until is all filled up.  And then they look about and see the Jerusalem they themselves have created.
-Martin Lev


*The cell is the guardian of solitude, while silence is its inspiration.
-Wayne Teasdale


*The primary, enduring inner effect of monastic life, of the whole claustral milieu, is to draw the person into the dynamic actuality of the present moment, where God finds us.  We must learn to become present to God and to others in each moment.  Just as a flower opens to the energy and warmth of the sun, so must we gently, gradually open to the grace and love of God.  Openness is one  of the most important skills a monk or anyone can learn.
-Wayne Teasdale