Vision Quest

My soul goes up into the forest

on a vision quest.

Amongst the breathing trees,

the white owls are speaking,

softly, so as not to be overheard

by the Others:

My child,

you have journeyed far,

and you are tired.

Just a little more,

we promise,

and all will be

as you dreamed.

My soul sits itself down

at the base of a great green cathedral

whose trunk has grown

for almost one thousand years.

My child,

you are weary and heartsore,

and can find no surcease.

Place your hand on my trunk

and I will tell you all I know

about Enduring.

My soul tiptoes up close to

a timid, gentle, startling deer.

She tilts her head, recognizes

that I mean no harm,

and does not turn away.

My child,

you have learned to keep

a distance from the world.

I understand.

My way, too, must be one of caution,

for there are fast unthinking cars and

heavy boots and killing guns

out in the Land from which

you come.

On the shores of my soul,

I hear waves,

forever advancing and retreating,

while I perch in this desert of the heart

as precariously 

as a cactus flower,

afraid to take root for fear

the wound of blooming

will be

life-threatening.

Bloom and thorn-

sometimes the messages

are mixed.

My soul emerges from the forest

somewhat comforted

and quieted,

but as directionless

as any traveler

seeking an answer

that is only found

within.