the intentions were pure

five minutes a week we sit in silence, break bread, recite prayer, sip water. we bow our heads, gaze forward, look inward, and try to clense the intent of our devotions. this week in my meditation she rose up over my spine, floated about my neck, whisped between my ears, and suddenly i could see her, at the head of the chapel, captivating all of us, tied with her sacred ribbon, fixated and completely immersed, by the sound of her voice, her story, pure emotion-- her delicate sacred song

down the corridor
I send warmth, I send warmth
down the staircase
I send warmth, I send warmth

thank you for again
to get to be able
to send warmth, to send warmth
perhaps I set you too free, too fast, too young

but the intentions were pure
but the intentions were pure

of those that i love, who have, do, and will hurt me-- who i have, do, and will, rather inevitably, hurt: but the intentions were pure. sinking deeper, deeper, seeping through my flesh, and into my bones. cells dancing their ritual praise to eternal truth, they whisper

[this, this thing, she teaches, this lesson, this feeble, uncertain wisdom, full of doubt and misgiving, this is going to be threaded, powerfully, transforming the rest of my life--]

there are reasons most of us aren't aware of, unknown silent influences that find life in us, that we behave and speak and think the way we do. and to understand this [the intentions were pure] is compassion.

may i look on myself, all others, and god with this compassion. perhaps more accurately, may i approach my life, this life, all life with greater compassion.