Today I would like to share a poem from my friend Rachel Yordy. Rachel and I know each other through the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers), to which we both belong.
Rachel has a fascinating inter-spiritual background. Her formation in several communities (Mennonite, Bahai, Buddhist, and Indigenous traditions of North America) gives her a well rounded and grounded perspective on things. Perhaps her poem will speak to your condition, opening your heart to walk in the light.
Maybe everyone has a tribe who’s driven by the same core,
and when you cross paths with ‘your people’
their feet match your rhythms,
their words melt the honey of your soul,
and you’re home.
Somehow, we belong in the comb of community,
express deeper creativity
keep each other on course
like a flock of geese in the light.
Who are your people?
Are they abundant as the wheat,
or rare gems?
Mine are the healers, mystics, earth tenders,
philosophers, artists, and allies;
with them, I feel alive and not alone
on this winding journey.
They are midwifing my soul.
Together, we feather the clouds,
coasting on each other’s wingwinds
in springward migration.
We aspire to weave wellness in the world
connecting authentically, living compassionately,
cultivating unity,
seeking right relations with all life.
We harbour hope.
Listen,
this is so much more than perfect:
it is the real work of making mistakes, dancing with shadow,
embracing our failures
and loving through the scar-tissue.
It is the courage to stand up after a fall, speak our truth,
or admit we don’t know:
deconstructing fear
into the familiar frameworks of
an old friend.
Listen,
it is owning responsibilities
without taking on another’s,
being with more than ‘helping’,
affirming more than ‘supporting’,
asking more than ‘advising’ ,
teasing tensions, unraveling complexities, holding contradictions
more than ‘fixing’.
The calling is to be present
with the aliveness of each moment
to hold space for each other in our slow grow to peace:
living values, loving voraciously,
inviting the flower of each soul to blossom
and allowing satyagraha to happen
in its own sweet time.
Listen,
it is recognizing that the act of blossoming is itself the gift:
more than ‘achieving’ the perfect bloom
power is the process of petals unfolding
into the sun’s caress,
sharing their sweet nectar
to nourish the world.
This is the precious topsoil that nurtures life,
the marrow in wholeness
that provides us each the needed strength to birth our own potential
and hold hands with the next sister in her labour pains.
Listen,
it is so much more than perfect:
this is the ubuntu that makes life worth living.
Together, we feather the clouds,
coasting on each other’s wingwinds
in springward migration.
Together we are alive and not alone.
Ubuntu of petals unfolding,
we harbour hope.
Listen:
we are midwifing the soul.
If this poem spoke to you in some way, please share it with a friend. If you would like to participate in a vibrant online community, free of charge, check out The Virtual Chapel on Mighty by clicking HERE.