BEYOND THE HEALING MISTS
a Tarot+Poem by The Bootleg Bodhisattva
in quiet, lonesome moments
you hear the Soul Shrinker’s whisper
an echo of a bitter soul from long ago
reciting the litany of your offenses
your not-enough-ness
your too-much-ness
when you first met the Soul Shrinker
the voice belonged to another
now, after years of familiarity
that other voice has faded
leaving only your own
as if you always believed these lies
your friends bubble over with concern
they cheer you up, they lift you up
up out of your familiar pain
up out of a disappointment
which drove you, which rode you
but which never belonged to you
this pain is the string that connects you
to all other discomfort, to all other beings
because this voice is known to all of us
some of us more than others
someday your own voice will reach out
sailing purposefully across endless oceans
in search of those souls who will cling to your wisdom
because your words are their life-boat
for now, feeling leaky with discouraged thoughts is normal
you are burdened by your raw materials
the Master Maker within will teach you
the artful mind your path requires
follow the Piper’s song, and remember
you must trust yourself to lead with your heart
slowly, softly, gently
the swirling, sparkling, healing mists
will creep into the cracks along the 3D edges
in each murky, muddy, mundane day
