Guatemalan Cave: A poem

Guatemalan Cave

I remember:
The smell of pine and moist earth
rich mud sticking to our shoes
mist and slipperiness
hands held awkwardly during our descent

Holiness
so many candles
the darkness lit in shadows
rocks jutting up
uneven ledges
water dripping down

I remember:
The medicine of mystery
Mayan and Catholic
Christian and Pagan
Memory
Deep magic

Whisperings of angels
Hints of underworld
Fragments of paper
Silent prayers unfurled

Flickering trinkets
Photos weighed down
People’s lost faces
Glowing underground

The scent of oppression
Yet also strength renewed
Sacred power thriving
Ancient, sturdy roots

I remember:

I fell in rapture
I stayed in longing
I went underground


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Guatemalan Cave (revisited)

I go there now, by surprise
On my darkest days, in my deepest dreams

Why?
What is it I’m longing to find?

Escape from my suffering, and long-term distractions?
Faith burning bright, amidst all the shadows?
Grief contained, but not buried or chained?
Permission to change, against all expectations?

Perhaps only this:
Remembrance
Mystery
Solidarity

Acceptance of
Awkward hands
Wounded hearts
Water from angels,
Dripping
down
down
down

Reminding me:
Wealth is not the gift it seems
Peace is not a commodity but neither as elusive as the clouds

I don’t know
When or How
I’ll find the things I seek

Maybe never
Maybe never in this waking dream

But I can remember:
A cave where
Holiness dwells
A place to breathe in
deep earth richness
Water that drips,
clear and sweet,
unto my cheeks,
baptizing me
in forgiveness

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Guatemalan Cave (remembered)

I was washed free of many false beliefs:
My faith in well-laid plans,
My notions that the world was fair

I became as tangible as flame,
intangible as the spirit that remains

And all truth since has brought me back to paradox:
The dark is safety
Rest is the necessary key to change
Hiddeness can save me

I’m often stripping down and peeling back and
Digging up the past
I do not—when I’m sane--obey convention

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Guatemalan Cave (reprise)

The cave is dark
The cave is deep
The cave is safe from politics and false beliefs

Hidden beneath soft grass of green
Pushing up buds in hues of Mayan lovely

To go is dangerous
Almost unbearable in the truth of all that stands as true
in this harsh land where plans aren’t ours and
we must die a thousand blooming times
for roots

Underground the roots give rain
Lines are always flickering
Faith hides in mist and sticks when slopes are slippery
Unspoken prayers are tangible as whispers
Religion blends and faces all are glowing,
Sacred souls of friends oppressed and dead
Yet
Living, thriving news of all we wish for

I remember this:
Astounding evidence

I went and go
to stay and hold

And choose

this underworld