The Dancing Path

Come with me, down in the here of the now,

through the crack in your language.

Descend into the dark silence, before the words you long for, arise,

that will shape your experience and give you relief.

Make your offering first, dear one.

Offer nothing but the open palms of your hands, and the pulsating fear coiling your breath.

Offer nothing but the tension in your belly and the water flowing from your eyes.

Offer nothing but the clench of your rage and the dark stickiness of its bite.

Be nowhere else then right here with your bare knees against the cold dark stone of Her absence.

And don’t reach into the known for the used words that seem to provide the spiritual answer, the easy antidote, the fleeting relief.

Lend Her your silenced mouth and speechless body.

I need to do it too,

alongside you.

Before you and after you.

Together with you.

May She bless us with words,

May she bless us with words,

resonant with Her mystery and shaped out of our humility,

that we may utter them and write them and share them

together

in ever renewed sacrament.