A Place to Share

Learning to trust
"Come to Me, my child."
"Mommy, I'm scared!"
tiny fist
clutches familiar fingers.
Soul Child clings
to Earth Mother,
face hidden
in her skirts,
fearing to loosen
the grip.
"He is your Father, my dear one."
"Mama, hold me!"
remembered
bumps and bruises
of one...two...many...
attempts at
'all by myself,'
the grasp tightens.
"Come to Papa, my precious lamb,
I will catch you if you fall."
little head
slowly turns,
a furtive glance.
Sky Father kneels
with arms spread
wide and welcoming,
a sure embrace.
He looks
so longingly
at Soul Child,
"Be not afraid! Come to Me!"
do I dare?
to trust?
a tearful gaze
cast up
at Earth Mother
seeking reassurance.
"Go to Him, my darling.
See how He aches for you!
To hold you, to comfort you,
to keep you safe from harm."
a wide-eyed stare
across the room.
He looks so strong,
so massive...
yet so friendly.
(Oh, but it is so far!)
"Mami no-o-o-o!"
Sky Father beckons again,
"Come, my love, come to Me!"
a gentle nudge
from Earth Mother's knee.
the handclasp relaxes
reluctantly;
the tiny foot lifts
gingerly;
small, baby steps
tentatively, at first,
then quicken
as confidence grows.
Soul Child totters
unsteadily
but surely
toward Sky Father's
waiting arms.
"Papi, here I come!"
a happy smile
lights Soul Child's face,
toddling now
fearlessly.
"Look at me-e-e!"
Sky Father beams
as Earth Mother softly calls
encouragement.
"Go, my baby! That the Way!"
suddenly...(gasp!)
a stumble!
"Daddy, catch me!"
strong arms shoot out
and enfold Soul Child
tightly
to the bosom
of proud Sky Father.
"Ah, my child, you have come to Me!
This is my Beloved Child,
in whom I am well pleased!"
Soul Child peers
lovingly
into Sky Father's
radiant Face
and gently
whispers,
"Abba."

cyranelle
2/14/98 Columbus, OH

To my secret lover
He showers me with precious treasures.
He dazzles my eyes with crystal visions,
--of butterfly wings and flower petals,
blazing sunsets and soft-focus rainbows.
He whispers in my ear sweet endearments,
--in the morning melodies of songbirds
and the soft sighs of summer breezes.
He brushes my lips with tender kisses,
--of sinful chocolate binges
and salty tears of joy.
He caresses my body with gentle fingers,
--with the sun's warmth on my skin
and the tight hug of a small child.
Together we savor these boundless pleasures,
A daily devotion:
High culture, higher learning,
highest self--all is a natural high.
Listen! The waltz begins anew.
Shall we dance, my love, my life?

cyranelle
7/30/97, Cleveland OH