Tag Archives: kirtan

Lament/Deluge

by

I sat in the rain. It was a pouring cold rain
that was much too cold for this June day.

I wanted to feel this June’s deluge so I lifted
my face and tears from the sky poured over

my despair. I wanted to feel the pouring cold
rain, June’s deluge washing me of my sin.

Thunder rolled by and over my bearing. It filled
my ears. I cried out in tandem. I released my pain

to the pouring cold deluge, much to cold for
this June day. My tears were diluted with fresh

new water as I sat on a step under trees bowing,
unable to balance, not one extra drop, no longer.

My breath almost drowned, flowed out and down
until the lawn could hold no more. So I walked with

the deluge along bulging gutters, feet submerged
in June’s cold rain. I kicked at rain waters and

stomped on the waves rushing into the deep black
gash. The day’s deluge gulped down by the sewers

took my crimes and washed them away on this
cold June day. The deluge slowed. Streams turned

into drops. Then droplets. Then nothing at all. I raised
my face up to June’s grey day in gratitude of its

cleansing. I know that from rain green grows lush
and glorious, blooms arise with colors to adorn.

The deluge always cleanses. Pouring cold rain,
much too cold for this June day.

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Author’s Note:

I was recently introduced to the lament. In a Celtic Spirituality retreat with Stefan Andre Waligur, I experienced the call and response of the lament. He spoke of how in our Western culture are afraid to let go of our emotions, especially in community.  And subsequently we do not heal. We have lost a togetherness that only this opening of oneself, this free flow of emotion can offer.

Today as I sat waiting for tornado sirens to silence, listening to the relentless rain, I felt as if the world was in lament. I know this rain, once the damage from the hail heals, will bring new life to my garden. Much like a lament.

Thank you, Stefan.

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Although this is not a lament, it is a lovely example of the kind of chanting we experienced at our retreat.

Selkie

by

She was vulnerable when she took off images
her coat to dance in the midnight sand.
Man and woman delighted in one another
till the sun beckoned them home once again.

Weary in her revelry she slept through
the exodus, her selkie coat well hidden above
in a shield of long straw shadowing the sun
keeping her safe, well protected from love.

She was faithful where she was led, not her
choice to be, a new place and way to serve.
She was true and devoted to word, spirit, creed,
even though she ached deeply for another.

She longed for water without knowing why
yet steadfast in her journey well run.
One day making bread, her food for the living,
from above selkie hide came undone.

A single drop, only one, oil glistened a call
to return to the shore of her yearning.
Her long slender finger lifted oil to her lips,
a recollection, a scent still languishing.

This woman of fidelity finally tasted and smelled,
remembered the raw deep sea of her beginning.
She walked to the sand without a look back and
slipped into her soul wild.

I am that woman of faith on my journey
from a life safely thatched and shielded.
I am grateful for Your grace, drop of oil,
passion in me, anointing a new life wild.

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Author’s Note:

This past weekend I had the pleasure of attending a retreat, Heartbeat of the Beloved: Exploring the Beauty and Power of Celtic Spirituality, by Stefan Andre Waligur, Marcy Baruch, and Steve Bross.

We sang, chanted, drummed, heard stories, and broke bread together. It was an amazing time getting to know a group of strangers pulled in by the same Spirit.

Stefan told a story of the selkies of Irish lore. And although his point for telling the story may be a bit different from what I gleaned, it was a powerfully moving story for my faith journey.