To the wounded from the Temple - Poem's from Highden

 

Oh pure, strong and tender child
You’ve come to heal and bless the human race 
But for the silent mass, you were too wild 
And few, so far, have recognized your grace. 

So now you want to fly away, sweet one
And leave behind this prison made of sand
Just take a look down here, before you run
There is a place for you, here on this land.

A place where you can come and rest and play
Where you can see the end of a hard day
A place that’s yours, where you can lick your tears
And ring your bells, and shake away your fears.

So if you choose, beloved, to remain
In this terrestrial field of joy and pain
This is our gift to you: you’re not alone
There is a place on Earth you can call home.
 

Our Soul is both powerful and vulnerable, Divine and exquisitely sensitive.

This poem is for that part of our Soul that suffers in her incarnation in this tough world. She longs for Home, and our task is to build a Home here on Earth for her, so that she doesn’t need to escape to feel safe. Without her, this world is grey, harsh, and stiff. She is a potent Child, and she carries a wound which is a portal into her deepest power.

I wrote this poem during a ceremony at the Highden Temple, where we created a physical space for all the sensitive Souls to land. We set up an altar right next to the stone consecrated to the zodiac sign of Cancer, which embodies - among other things - the quality of Nurturing.

May all the sensitive, alive Souls that come into incarnation be nurtured and cherished, feel at home on Earth, and feel safe enough to share their gifts freely!

From Raffaello Manacorda

........

From Bruce Lyon

Yesterday we created a place here at Highden amongst the stone mandala as a sanctuary spot for all those who have suffered abuse - in particular sexual abuse from those that they trusted -parents, teachers, religions etc and offered prayers, songs and invocations towards a spirituality that honours and integrates our sexual and emotional lives. We then created a temple space where we sang to all those parts of ourselves and our community that have felt there is no place for them.

Here is my poem....

 

'To the Circling Ones'

There are wandering albatrosses
that cross oceans
they rest in flight
their bodies sleeping on the wind
surrendered to a mysterious journey
driven by instinct
to seek an unknown land
that arrives finally
over the edge of a vast horizon of water

Let this place
be such a land
for the wild human souls
launched into the subtle
winds of spirit
driven from the bones of their bodies
by abuse, neglect, love
or simply the call of adventure
Let the energy of these stones
the spiral of this womb
sound like a horn of sanctuary
across the endless tears of water
and drop a violet ray
of hope into their yearning hearts

Here your wings can fold
along the curve of your brave spine
here you rest and heal
here the wounds are received 
by loving soil
and the soul remembers
this earth as heaven
here you can still 
fly home
with both feet
on sacred ground