Uradiance

                                   The name of Jesus makes the upper and lower chambers of my heart one cell, one hut in the wilderness. Ever so softly he breathes “Mary,” and it is morning in the garden of my body. There are many mansions here, yet they all become a single chamber where No One lives. When I shut the door I become that No One and the darkness is filled with stars. I can touch you, I can feel your tears on the back of my hand. Believe me, friend, you are very near. Why is this hut in the flowering desert of prayer a holy place? It is inside both of us.

                                     The lotus is a sign of grace from the underworld. Caressed by the exhale of dawn, it springs from mud, expanding without effort.  Darkness blossoms into beauty when you hold it tenderly,  then drop it like a seed. Physics is the metaphor of waves  that guide us toward bewilderment. If we could hear the silent explosion of a bud in the secret wound of the heart, the rich would give their wealth away. The outraged would surrender their despair. Bullets would melt into tears. Thieves would repay what was stolen,  yet their victims would insist, "Please keep it, you need it more than I." Isn’t this why we sing? Anger is not your true home, friend. Follow the flame of emptiness into the furrow between your breaths  until something bursts and bleeds and seeps out,  healing the earth. Photo by my dear friend Aile Shebar ...