Language Translation

Saturday, June 4, 2011

Eternal Destiny

A seed, blown on the wind
Out to the waters of the calm sea.
No land, no soil here is found;
This water once nourishment to the seed, becoming it's enemy,
Desperately searching some safe harbor to settle in.

The water rages as stirred by the wind.
The seed gasps and gurgles in fear.
Anxiety surrounds and peace flees
As the seed is water soaked.
The hope of true life, all but lost.

But wait!  The water is angry and stirring, but not at the seed.
It is as if she would say, "NOT ONE MORE.
Not one more shall be lost in endless depths."
Shouting, shaking a watery torrent at the wind and sky,
Not realizing the source of power that allows her to spray and foam.

Gathering, mustering, foaming, sputtering, spraying -
All around the water looks, this way and that
Waiting for the enemy of the seed to show itself.
Spinning and turning, up and up
Thinking "The wind will be squashed beneath my power and die."

Do you see the force that holds you up?
Is it not the same force that has led me to your depths?
Are not our thoughts in contradiction with each other?
For the same power which blew me to you
Is keeping you up, as a pillar of strength.

Below the depths are many of my family.
Blown out to see by winds of change.
Some find a form of life in the dark depths beneath,
But that is no life for me.
Others drown.  Again, for me, an impossible thought.

Nowhere to turn and no hope of life,
Almost giving up and believing those who said,
"You cannot grow.  You are not real.
Don't live on false hope that has no chance.
You will only hurt more in the end."

Yet, one drop in the great sea
Said, "Not one more can be lost!"
This drop once thought emotion
To be her weakest part;
Her undoing and her demise.

Now she finds it to be the wind which,
Even in forceful rage and powerful sway,
Lifts her up to speak to all who will hear.
Her voice, emboldened by the cries of her helpless seed,
Becomes an instigator, gathering together the mass.

The mass becomes the throng.
The throng becomes the unified.
Mothers taking arms in defense of each little seed
That clings to them. Each mother a drop of water
Whispering hope for life yet unseen.

The fury builds, guided by that first drop.
Her voice, once quivering with the vengeance
Of those who long for justice,
Now strong and sure with a higher purpose;
A more noble view.

The unified pillar, now aware
Of the strength and power of the wind,
Accepts it's destined ally.
Together they see the true enemy of their precious seeds:
The blinded eyes of man, the proud necks of the learned.

At once, in a torrent, no longer fighting but embracing the wind
The pillar moves and spins, looking for the true enemy.
"The land!  Surely it must be the land which
In careless whim let the seed be blown."
So taking aim, the pillar charges.

Caught up in the wind of the torrent
All those seeds, who must have land
Or must die.
Flying in the center, protected, sheltered
Surrounded, by faces smiling in but raging out.

The rage, the seeds wish were not so strong
Yet they see it is necessary for the storm.
So in the storm,
Protected by this thing called a disease,
Protected from the raging anger of the storm.

Together now - unified drops, wind,
And protected seeds - all moving toward the land.
And on the land, towering in false strength
Reaching up as if to touch the hand of God Himself,
Creations of a gross and vile nature.

These towers, polluting the earth,
Remaining unseen by the powerful storm
As it gathers and grows, now larger, fuller.
Ever growing, ever driving, seeing only a distant stretch of land
Which buffeted and abandoned those precious helpless, now protected ones.

"To the land! To the land!  It is cursed because of dependence.
It is desiccated and withered because it refused
To shelter and protect these precious seeds."
Fury and rage, foaming and reaching
As the land shakes and trembles, quaking with fear.

The land, as if to say "My heart is good,
My desire is pure" quakes to move out of the way.
I will move, I will run, I will not be blotted out
By this fury, this demon of wind and steam.
It's power cannot last, it will die down and I will be left.

Still the seeds, with no true life
Unable to speak,
Ride silent in the calm.
Protected from all that would harm;
All that would taint.

Crashing, in fury and indignation!
Wiping out the towers.
Pulling down the groves.
"Let not one stand strong.
All must be brought down!"

Storm becoming water,
Water becoming drops,
Drops, carrying their special ones
Sink into the earth and give all they are
That this precious seed might live.

The land, no longer cursed and dry,
But filled with water and life,
Rejoicing in the storm that raged.
"Why did I fear, it was meant that
That storm should land here."

The drops, sheltering and nurturing
Their sacred seeds, now for the first time see.
"It was not the land which meant to do my beloved harm.
It was not the land, which now lovingly holds us both protected.
It was the vile towers, a thousand Babels reaching high."

Then the seeds, now nourished by both
Water and Land begin to grow.
Strong and tall and green,
Now budding and flowering,
Now the fruit so precious, enclosing more seeds.

Then seeds and water and land again.
The seeds from the first,
They had vision and knew.
But if tongues were loosed
Would drops have combined?

The seeds now, with tongue and mind
Freed to tell the truth.
The mouths shall be opened
The dumb shall speak and
As they speak the deaf will finally hear.

"If I had been a drop, mother, like you, or
A piece of land, as my father,
Would you have listened when I spoke?
Would you have heard my voice of truth?
Would you have hearkened and heard the warning?

I am not a drop and I am not the land.
I am a seed, formed by intervention of God.
Both land and water, father and mother must be
Sheltering and cradling, providing and nourishing,
I cannot live, not truly, without the water, without the land.

I was not blown out to the sea by an evil wind
Or recklessly abandoned by the land.
It was my eternal destiny
To reunite my father and mother,
To heal the land and remove the curse.

It was the hand of God,
The wind He breathed
From the land, and crossing the sea.
Around the world, again and again.
Each day the number of my siblings grows.

We are here to be your light
To help you see when you think you have already seen.
We have diseases and illness and bodies
Broken by God, that His miracles may be seen.
God is in the wind.  Will you hear?

If I had been born, my father, like you
Would you have heard my mother's tears?
Mother, would you have cried
If God had made me like
Every other child?

But God, knowing the wretched view;
Seeing His children repeat their dark past;
Watching as we stumble and fall;
Choosing to be blind to those who came before;
God sent me, to enlighten you, to fulfill His promise to our fathers.

For though I cannot speak
My silence is more powerful than words.
Though I cannot express my vision
My eyes are not dimmed by the view
That seems to hold both land and water captive.

Captive you say?  Yes, and willing ones too.
You stepped and played and gave all you had.
One for more pleasure, another for more profit,
Over the bodies of your children you clamber
Fighting for your 'my time' or fortune and fame.

So God sent us, the seeds not yet bloomed.
You cannot cut us down.
You cannot trample us under foot.
You cannot starve us by your dusty
Deserted soil.

You cannot drown us in your pain
Of childhood scars left by those who taught you
How to hurt and wallow in sorrow.
You cannot dehydrate us with your selfish heart
You cannot kill us by leaving us without nourishment.

We are God's
And His alone.
Not one can break or hurt us truly.
It is His plan
That created me.

For when I am finally freed to open my mouth
You will hear.
We dumb shall speak
And you deaf will hear.
Our voices will reach you, will penetrate your hearts.

The heart of you mother,
Softened by my frail condition.
Seeing me as one who must be protected,
You ached, and in your aching,
Found God was the wind.

The heart of you my father,
Strong and stout, yet
Mother's tears wore through the walls.
Her heart so soft now begs of you,
'Please protect and shelter my beloved!'

So father, hearing my mother's cries,
Out of duty first, will turn away
From greed and selfish and evil ways.
Turning from barren land and, with my mother's tears,
We three together become a fruitful field.

Again I ask you mother, so dear,
Had I been born like the children you covet,
Would my voice have been heard over din and roar?
Would you have listened to my whispering pleas,
"Mother, father, do not me abandon!"

Would have heard my great heart break?
Would you have softened your heart to heal?
Would you, my mother have repented of your ways?
To turn back to God, and let father once again
Lead us home?

And father, dearest father, I wonder
Would you have heard my desperate plea
As your selfish habits enslaved you?
Would you have stepped away from evil's door
If mother had not been broken and falling?

So yes, I am mute.  And yes, my body is broken.
But it is only because I am in this tiny shell.
Mother and father, one day you will heal.
And when you do,
I will be set free.

For did not Isaiah foretell of our time?
He did say 'Children are their oppressors
And women rule over them.
They which lead thee do cause thee to err.
The Lord standeth up to plead and to judge.

What mean ye that ye beat my people to pieces,
And grind the faces of the poor?'
He saw you father, caring not for your fruit,
But scattering it and discarding it
As your vile habits dictate.

He saw you my mother, tempestuous voice
Running around and tossing back and forth;
The waves of emotion so much in control
No child could live or breathe
In your waters.

He saw my brothers and sisters who grew
Trampled then fighting back.
He saw them lead you around the earth
As though they were the masters Of God's own work.
Polluting the order of God's design.

So he sent me.  Mouth tied
So I cannot repeat your words of poison.
Body broken so I cannot follow in your footsteps.
Then God enclosed me in His hands
And sent me here to weather your storms and barren lands.

In this shell I wait for you to soften and see.
I wait for your heart to change.
I wait for the day when the sea will rage upon the earth
Breaking in pieces the things which corrupt and ruin,
Leaving only mother and father and seeds, unopened and unspoiled.

We will then grow, nurtured by mother
Protected by father.
For that is His plan.
He made each to fill your part,
And not to do the others share.

Father you were made to fight the world
While mother was made to keep me warm.
Mother you were made to nurture me
While father was made for the battle and fray.
Play your part, that is what I need.

Father be my champion.  Believe in me.
Mother be my fortress and life giving support.
I want to grow, I want to speak.
But until the earth is cleansed and the curse lifted,
Silent I will remain.

If you would see me bloom
Then father, put away your vain and evil habits.
Mother, calm your cutting tongue.
Father protect your precious family,
Not from wolves or arrows or spears.

No, protect us from the evil that dwells in every heart.
Protect us by rooting the evil out of your own.
Then you can show us how to do the same.
Until you do, the protection you try to give
Will be vain empty arms, waving at the hurricane.

Mother, if you would hear me laugh
And whisper in your ear, 'Oh! How I love you dearest mother!'
Open your heart, and stop this pride which keeps
Father, husband, son and daughter
Safely away.

Give us shelter in your love
Instead of fighting the battles in the field.
Let father do his part,
You were not made for his work
For you are made with heart and gentleness.

The earth is smitten with a curse
'Til father and mother you learn,
This life is not for pleasure, nor for fame.
It is not for selfish habits
Or unruly tongues.

We are here to learn to love.
If love of self is what you seek,
The earth will be empty and barren
I will remain locked up
Until the day God comes.

Love of God is what you must have;
The love which works miracles in the heart of man.
Love that turns the hearts of the children to their fathers.
Love that opens prisons of the spirit
And gives nourishment to the starving masses.

Then, mother you will see me grow.
Father, you will feel the strength of who I am.
You will hear my voice and you will know my heart.
So fight, work, toil and strive for that goal.
Do not fight the wind, for He brought me to you.

Do not fight my father, for he is my survival.
Do not fight my mother, for she is my hope and health.
Do not fight people, they cannot change the course of land or tide.
Do not fight God, for His plan is set - and you cannot see
How wonderful and great and marvelous His plan is.

Fight instead the demons who seek to separate.
Fight the darkness, and the clouds of error which cover our world.
Fight against the darkness, for even with father and mother
If I have no light, I cannot grow.
I must have light.

Light can only come from one source.
To fight my battles you must become one with that light.
Father and mother together, living in light,
Teaching in light,
Walking in light.

Then no longer will the land and the sea be divided.
We will come together to nurture each other.
Land, with water coursing throughout,
Basking in the glow of the Light which shines
And allowing me, finally to show you who I am."

So says the seed, to each drop of water and each spec of land.
But could you have seen that while you were all gathered;
Water coming together to stand
Against the land
So desolate and barren?

Would you have opened your heart to receive the water,
Into your parched and dry soul
If the seed had been left on land as all the others have?
Would you have fought so hard and by fighting
Broken each other down?

But there is another way.
You do not have to fight you know.
Water, you can return to your natural state
You do not have to be broken into drops before
Healing can come.

Land, you do not have to stay
Separate and hard
Callously pulling away from all that is good.
You may choose to pursue light rather
Than the corrupting darkness.

God will have His people.
Seeds are planted and placed in specific places.
Those seeds are helpless,
Because in being helpless
We become your teachers.

For each of us has an eternal destiny.
It is your destiny, mother
To be made of water - to nourish and feed.
It is your destiny, father
To be the land - firm and supporting, unyielding to evil.

I am a seed.
But I will not remain in this shell,
Silent or broken.
I am in my Master's hands
My work is known by Him.

And until you embrace your destiny,
God, in His wisdom,
Has a wondrous plan.
I see it, so I do not fight my destiny.
It is my destiny to be a seed.

1 comment:

  1. Omg, this seriously brought tears to my eyes! A beautiful poem, Tara!