I can sit silently holding your grief in my arms, cradling it to me,
This chasm pulling you inward,
Taking your hand and holding you there until you are ready to crawl out.
Hearing what shouldn't be and what you don't want to share.
Feeling your pain within my marrow - circulating, pinching my muscles and becoming my own.
Welling up inside of me is a warrior, six feet tall, muscled, immovable,
Unleash her for you, breathing, exhaling,
Winds that wipe away those who would wound you.
Let her move hearts for you with her gaze and presence,
Standing her ground until your will is done.
Holding time for you until you are your own army.
I can stand back and let you fight, ready to soothe your wounds.
Feed you, encourage you, push you forward.
Mara mother, Tara teacher, birthing you back to your own battle.
I can share your joy. I can quote Sufi lovers to you,
Men who experience the divine ecstasy of the mystery that is what connects you and me
You and them
Me and them.
Orthodox Jews who explain I and Thou.
Women who dance over fires and welcome each other to the struggle to be witnesses
To the experience of now, but can hold your yesterday and face you toward tomorrow.
I can tell you what I see in you,
Or what you need to hear right now.
I can sit with your indecision, or wait patiently as you get sidetracked,
Allowing you to make mistakes that aren't really mistakes, but aren't your true self.
I will be here waiting for you on the other side of this labyrinth
Winding us what seems like further apart but getting us closer to our centers.
It is my purpose and my meaning,
My need and my gift,
What I can share.