Map to the Treasure

April 29 2007

All those things I was tracking by heart
Turned out to be real.

We suffer, but we are too ancient to be changed into things unrecognizable.

When I woke up the first many times, it's true, I did not recognize where I was.
The landscape was obscured and somehow we had become so dispersed
That there was no connection at all.  Just a wistfulness
Lingering under a disorientation
Caused by a law. 

But I was following a path back and back and back
There were so many!  Mingling and running back with it
So many misunderstandings and hurts.. I can tell you stories.

At first, there was one.
This is the relief.

But we have travelled far, crisscrossing  the landmarks
With new markers and carving lines

When we dig down deep, there are whole stories beneath us
Filled with evidence of our living,
Weight bearing walls and bones,
Love notes and wills and accounts,
Memories.  Pictures.


*************

We spring from the loins and we must walk; even though the dirt holds so much.
It holds a trail. I am following by heart
Something within me spoke
And  I've been trailing  it a long time.

Within there is one,
And this is the relief
Deep inside and as secret as all those stories beneath us,
Filled with treasure and wisdom,
Evidence of our birthing and living and dying
Of mercy, and forgiveness, and blessings

And I unravel the skeins and work out the knots
My heart taking on the contours of the map  inside
Which cannot be erased,
Whose landmarks are ancient and still standing
Whose boundaries I recognize
Because they are The Edge of the Wild
Calling me home to my people
In a tongue I can still and suddenly understand.
Are you awake?
It is a gift of something that was lost, that must never be thrown away.

I walk toward the Wild
My hair grows long
My face is creased with smiles and tears and stares into far seeing

It is true,
We all came from there, and before we wandered out,
We kept a sacred ground
Filled with fragrant trees
We walked fearless, and talked freely with every sentient being. 
We were naked, and felt no shame. 
Those are my people,
And that is my genesis.

I woke up again far from my beginnings,                
 But aware now
And with words of my native tongue,                                
With evidence in stories of my own
And belief is the relief of seeing

The reality of my excursion
And the inevitable of my return
And beyond this, my ancestors, my relatives
Who recognize the native tongue and add the yarns of their skeins.
We take deep breaths and smile
And we stare into far seeing together:

Deep within,
A treasure is kept,
A soul is contoured to its map
Yet, its body will die; is dying,
Consider it dead already
It will be given to the dirt which contains us--                   
This is the relief, the release,
And finally, the rest


The path I followed early was marked by one who went before
A hunter left his trail so I could follow.

He left me bits of clay and prints of hands
Strands of hair,
Scratchings in the dust to decipher as I could.
Whispers in dreams.
And once, he left drops of blood and spilled water.
And there his trail left the dirt

I realized then that I could never find my homeland here.
There are only relics
And remnants,
And promises.


**********

 
I used to sorrow because his path led to a place I could never go
But when I woke up again                                        
To realize that the heirloom inside was inviolate
The promise stood
And I can prepare my soul
By fleshing out the map by heart.

Over time the fear of leaving lessens
And I became willing to part with what belongs to the dirt.

It is true, see?  I will plant my seed
And it will die, as seeds do, bringing forth a sheaf.

How much more plainly can I tell my story?