Prayer | The Consecrated Hour
Do you not see them
the ashen ones, the grey ones
the starving orphans, the seduced innocents,
the decimated specters of conflagration,
all the beings trampled in degradation
crowding our collective shadow field?
Go find them. In this, this
consecrated hour of human becoming find your estranged,
your lost and abandoned family
and embrace them into the vital marrow of your life.
Kiss them until the ashes of their betrayal turn from grey to red
and the blush of love blows through
the one soul, the one life of all
Do you not feel them
the slicks of poison, the necrotic plastic
the ocean’s dead-zones, the cancers, the tumors
the die-offs, the daily extinctions
the breath of life suffocated on a genocidal scale?
Do you not feel them in your own flesh and blood?
Go heal the pain. In this, this
consecrated hour of human becoming feel your rivers
your lakes, your mountains, feel their freshness, their pure life force
coursing your veins, opening your heart to the one Mother,
the one soul, the one life of all.
Do you not know them
the guardians of the moment, the secret listeners
the agents of truth, the instruments of soul awakening—
consciousness raising—light resurrecting power of transfiguration
in the center of your own compassionately ripened awareness?
Go manifest this power. In this, this
consecrated hour of human becoming
sing the communal choirs of collaboration
showering our wounded world with the
divinely feted audacity to celebrate
the one soul, the one life of all.
~ James O’Dea soulawakeningpractice.com
A moving poem. I wonder at the hour. Of its arrival and the unpredictability of seeing yourself in it, far past the time you were needed. The path back is high. It is a long walk to redemption.