Back in Touch

I have been through a "spell" as my Texas ancestors would call this time, when I really have not written much.  Some of that comes from trying to stay balanced in two two ministries.  Yet, there have been other factors as well, including perhaps a need to learn to simply live in, and where I am today.  However, I have missed the stirrings, and I have missed all of your notes and comments.  Even your silences prove to be a deeper experience for me when I am writing.  It has been wonderful to be back in your gentle touch.     

 

This poem, entitled "Breathing Under Water,"  was written by Carol Bieleck, R.S.C.J.,  and has come to be via Richard Rohr in his book by the same name.  It is proving to be a persistent sign post that will not let me blithely continue on.  Therefore, I pass it on to you so we can go forth together.  I will try to keep the same formatting that is in the book.  I pray that even if I fail in that endeavor, may this mysterious poem remind you of the eternity that is within you, and bring you grace in any stress that may be holding you today.        

  

     

   

I built my house by the sea, 

Not on the sands, mind you; 

not on the shifting sand. 

And I built it of rock, 

A strong house 

by a strong sea. 

And we got well acquainted, the sea and I, 

Good neighbors. 

Not that we spoke much. 

We met in silences. 

Respectful, keeping our distance, 

but looking our thoughts across the fence of sand.

Always, the fence of sand our barrier,

always, the sand between.

  

And then one day, 

- and I still don't know how it happened - 

the sea came. 

Without warning. 

 

Without welcome, even.  

 

Not sudden and swift, but a shifting across the sand 

like wine, 

less like the flow of water than the flow of blood. 

Slow, but coming. 

Slow, but flowing like an open wound. 

And I thought of flight and I thought of drowning 

and I thought of death.  

And while I thought the sea crept higher, till it reached my door.

And I knew then, there was neither flight, nor death, 

nor drowning.  

That when the sea comes calling you stop being  

neighbors 

Well acquainted, friendly-at-a-distance, neighbors 

And you give your house for a coral castle, 

And you learn to breathe under water.