A heart breaking love story
from pain to hope, from fear to love, from hatred to kindness...
Welcome to Soft. Simple. Still, a place where like gentle butterflies that land upon your hand,
soft words will land in your heart for healing, stillness and simplicity.
A special welcome to you if you are new here.
If you regularly share a cuppa with me here in this space,
know that I have already put the kettle on for you.
They are so sacred to each other...
Born apart
and yet so intertwined.
They hold each other
and guide each other’s ways.
Sacred Lovers.
Kings and Queens
of stories past.
Gods and Goddess
of ancient times.
She loves him.
And He,
He loves her.
Never truly apart,
despite the many
many
miles.
He showered Her with His gentle touch.
So soft
it fell upon Her face.
Gentle mist.
Gentle light.
A gentle caress.
Exquisite colours each morning.
Each evening.
His whispers
so soft only His lover could hear him.
And when He sang
She heard His song
echoing beyond the rocks
dancing among the waves.
He gave Her everything -
The purest of water.
To fill her belly.
To fall over her hair.
Rivers ran
streams flowed,
And when She was hot
He would wash Her
soothe Her
calm Her.
He fertilised Her in passionate ways.
Thunder
Lightning
Wind
Rain.
So powerful
and passionate was their love affair.
He ensured that when there were young
He would support Her even more,
so that new life would continue
to grow
to flourish
to thrive.
She would shine in colours so exquisite,
sing songs so profound,
She reached higher and higher
and everything about her was alive.
She happily died
to be reborn each day.
Each turn of the moon.
Each turn of the season.
Death was part of life.
Life was part of death.
They were so intertwined.
He to Her
She to Him.
They were gentle .
They were passionate.
They were soothing.
They were devoted.
Forever connected
Forever apart.
Nothing ever separated them.
Nothing ever threatened them.
Until
The Others
Came
They used Her.
Abused Her.
Threatened all the life upon Her.
They raped Her.
And pillaged Her.
And tore Her asunder
He cried out in sorrow.
In pain.
His world
His love
desecrated,
abused.
The Others didn’t stop
More.
More.
MORE…
THEY WANTED MORE…
He watched from far away,
where once it was easy to wrap His arms around Her in an embrace
of cool soothing stillness,
where once it was easy to fall down upon Her and soothe all Her living creatures,
where once it was easy to dance in the heavens with light
and sound
where once He could easily let His love fall around Her,
Now
Now
NOW….
there was a block
A wall as thick as smoke
A wall as heavy as guilt.
Shame.
A wall as impenetrable as anger.
Rage.
A wall as strange as control.
Alienation.
A wall as confusing as separation.
Racism.
How could He reach His Beloved,
who now was crying in pain
burning
smouldering
Igniting
flaming.
Over
and over
and over
again.
The Others continued
and caused more pain
more heartache.
Their footprints scars upon Her body
Their actions depressions in Her soul.
However,
some
were
different.
Of the same breed,
yet different.
Like the Heroes of old,
some came out first,
protecting,
guarding,
standing tall.
Like the Fey of old,
some only came out when they felt sure others were not watching
casting their own magic,
circles of protection
of healing
of community
of connection.
At first it wasn’t enough
Then more came forward
Slowly.
In a different way.
They began to light their own inner fires
They began to shed their unshed tears
They began to clean their inner landscapes
returning what was no longer theirs
transmuting what could be changed.
They began to say “No more!”
“I want to live a new way”
”Stop.”
”Let there be peace.”
”I respect you.”
”I hear you.”
They learnt to clean their own inner streams
Clearing the oil spills
within their own sacred waterways,
They began to pick up the litter
that was shrewn from elsewhere,
They stopped reading the propaganda
delivered by Others
who tried to manipulate -
their minds,
their bodies,
their lives.
They began to put down the axe
from times of self harm
self mutilation.
They began to realise the importance of rising up from the ashes -
some seeds can only open
after such a fire is burnt.
And they began to realise they were stronger than they first thought.
They began to realise that there were two types of fires…
one of their Vision
their Purpose,
the other of Anger, Rage, Hatred and Fear.
They began to realise that it is important to let the former burn with grace and purpose,
awareness and perseverance,
The latter with wisdom
understanding and empathy.
They began to realise that they were the people they were waiting for .
Not their hero
Not the ones they had placed on pedestals
It was them
messy and raw
untrained and trained
gentle and strong
Yes,
it was themselves
they were the ones they had been waiting for…
Then one day, Those Others
brave enough to step forward,
to stand tall
turned their own inner battles into sacred medicine,
They began to open the smoke filled frame
and they began to bring forth the Rains
They began to learn how to be Gardeners
to tend,
to care
to nurture the land
their own inner land.
They began to understand the subtle changes in the tides,
the moon,
the seasons.
In themselves.
They began to understand that there is a Divine within
not without
They began to dance
with the Masculine
with the Feminine.
They began to learn how to tend the flowers,
trees and herbs,
planting with companions
and friends
removing the noxious
removing the poisonous.
They began to understand that to cry brought the inner rains
to get angry
to feel
brought forth ancient medicine,
Like a hunter who faces the dragon,
they realised that to befriend rather than kill,
to name rather than curse,
to understand rather than block,
invites treasures and friendship
empowerment and compassion
They began to understand
that together the rider
and the dragon
would soar
They began to learn how to live in harmony
within themselves,
and the Earth,
We are These Others.
YOU AND ME.
We are the ones we have been waiting for.
We have the power to heal, to transform, to empower.
We are the Gods and Goddesses
We are the High Queens and Kings
We are the ancient ones of old.
May we remember this ancient lore
may we remember the balance
the connection
the depth of healing that we have within us
And may in doing so
we heal ourselves
and the Earth.
Forever more.
Blessed be,
My name is Sam. I am a Healer - a Gardener and Storyteller of the Soul. I weave earth based wisdom into simple living and self healing, for you now, and for the 7th generation to come. Welcome to my little corner of the world.
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THANK YOU.
What a wonderful weaving of words, story and wisdom. I’m in awe with the journey and simplicity of this weaving.
Wow Sam, this is truly powerful, you have arrived! I feel so much this journey and adventure that Mother Earth has been on. Your words deliver a message of sorrow, but much more than that a message of hope. That there are more people here to create than to destroy and that collectively we are returning to a way of being that will bring peace and plenty and care. Thank you for your beautiful poem to bring us all to the place of knowing and softness. xxx