I travel on occasion for my job. This week it was a trip from San Francisco to Boston, a rather long flight that can be rather difficult depending on how the RA is behaving. I find that I often struggle with anxiety while traveling so I turn to writing about my experiences as a way of dealing with the anxiety and calming my mind. This is a poem that says a lot about how I feel as an RA sufferer...written on the flight from SF to Boston. I hope it can express some of your feelings as well and that expression can provide some spiritual healing.
The Tree of Life
By Alan Duncan
A rigid shell, impenetrable, varnished by time
Sinking slowly through dark soil, drifting sublime
Into restful slumber, anticipating fate
Will stir the restless powers that wait.
I woke to the rays of the morning sun;
Icicles of pain, dripping from faded dreams, run
Through my mind, setting into familiar places,
A gasp, a sigh, and resignation fill the spaces.
Darkness reigns inside the shell, a hollowness
Slowly filling with murmurings of life's excess.
Memories find solace in darkened shadows,
Lit by flickering tales of friends and foes,
I walk with painful limp to the bedroom window,
The sun warms my face, my blood flows slow,
Sluggish from the coldness of restless sleep,
My impatient heart stutters and skips a beat.
No longer hollow, the shell fills with mindful joy,
Prizes of wood and rock, clutched in the fist of a small boy;
Love flares brightly, enduring as grief and loss,
A secret aroma from a seasoned sauce.
Though barely awake, I'm tired, filled with fatigue,
Having journeyed far, a life in league
With silent companions of sorrow and pain,
My body distorted and twisted by the strain.
Inside the shell, once more my child is born,
Breathed by God, his life is torn
From nothingness to wondrous grace,
His glowing spirit mirrored in my face.
I rise from the bed and walk to the door,
Rustling and creaking from me and the floor;
I step outside, shaking dust from brittle bones,
Trembling hands clutching rails of polished stones.
The shell is full now, bursting with treasures of life spent
Dancing with a goddess of lusting passion, sent
To lead a lonely man to heights of ecstasy,
A gentle touch to set the spirit free.
Painted stone frogs lead me to a bench by the path;
I sit down hard, provoking my body's wrath,
Jarring my mind to sense with crystal clarity
A living drink of divine charity.
Inside the shell, a memory of consummated love,
Pounding hearts entangled, releasing a spirit dove,
Calming the fire, my heart leapt with joy and sighed;
When she lived, I lived; when she died, I died.
On the bench, I sit in the shade of our tree
Planted in our careless youth, a sign for all to see
Of lives forever entwined, rising to the light.
I smiled; it is enough to see me through this last night.
The shell sinks deeper into the earth, leaving human shores,
Awash in a fertile sea of ripening seeds and spores.
With an anguished moan, the shell is ripped and torn.
God spoke, a new life was born.
I awoke in my bed, a shrieking pain in my heart,
Turning dust to ashes, let my spirit depart,
Flee this wrinkled shell, leave these earthly pains;
The dust settled, only an empty shell remains.
We are the tree, the tree of life,
Planted in seasons of joy and strife,
Our branches lift to the heavens above,
And in our shade springs newfound love.
Thanks, Alan
Lovely Alan - wish I could write like that
Wendy
That was beautiful,Alan. Thank you for sharing it with us.