purification

The Threshold

/ Chloe Kyle / 1 Comment 
Leave your boots at the door, my friend.
The dirt from past roads travelled is not needed here.
Toss your hat to the wind,
And all those thoughts in your head,
The heavy ones you dwell on too often,
And those earthly desires that hook you in.
BluebackIMAGE
Hang up your coat on that peg.
Cast aside your cloaks of identity.
That shabby jacket of unworthiness,
Or the sharp suit of vanity.
Neither one is truly you.
The fire inside will bring warmth enough.

Put down those bags you clutch so close,
Burdened with grief, bursting with misplaced loves,
Even that small pouch of shame you tuck away.
Let’s go through them together, the pain and mistaken joy.
Allow me to help you leave them be,
You will feel lighter without them.

This is the threshold you cross,
Where you shed all you thought you were,
And become what you truly are.
Free your feet and your soul, my dearest one.
Take my hand. Let us listen only to the music of love.
Enter my house and dance.

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This Sacred Road

/ Chloe Kyle / 2 Comments 
On this path of living my truth,
I bump into all the times I’ve been untrue:
The job endured because I felt I should,
The countless times I’ve said yes to please another,
When every cell in my body was screaming no.
Image: dugdax
The relationship severed and lost,
Because I lacked the courage to speak up,
Or spoke too freely, without discernment,
Of import, of kindness, of truth.
Each misstep, a bruise, a welt, a cut I carry still.

The heavy sandbags of grief, shame and despair,
The concepts I hold, built on values of family, society,
Of how life should be, form solid walls, 
A prison cell around my true self.
They bar my freedom, block my light.

I touch these tender purple lesions,
Soft abrasions, rubbed raw through time,
Deep gashes still bleeding hurt,
Untended wounds, too painful to clean,
And hold each one up to His loving gaze.

I thank each blunder for the blessing it bears,
The insight, the wisdom, the truth of what I am not.
The barricades begin to dissolve,
The bleeding stems, aches recede, and wounds start to heal,
Each scar a testament to this sacred road travelled.

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A Murmuration

/ Chloe Kyle / 3 Comments

As daylight fades, and thick grey clouds descend,

A handful of starlings swoop and twist

In perfect unison, a shape-shifting silhouette,

Against the burnished sunset sky.

Marshall Baron

In reciprocation to this flight of freedom, of joy,

More starlings gather and soar and dive,

An intricately coordinated pattern, a collective dance,

To fend off foe, defy the elements through exultant grace.

And I ask myself, is it like those whispers of clarity,

That fly into our awareness and demand,

That every cell inside wakes up and heeds the call,

To pursue our deepest truth?

Energy gathers, uprises to break free, from the binds of,

Overwhelming grief, crushing despair, or not feeling enough.

It fends off each unjust thought that cuts us down or puffs us up,

Discards all unworthy concepts that weigh less than true.

We parry and spar until this struggle becomes a dance.

 We rise in Grace, then plunge to cleanse the depths of our beings,

To soar again with an ever-increasing momentum, 

Of purity, of purpose, of lightness, in Love.

Hundreds of tiny beating wings rise up,

Emblazoned against the pink, orange, and golden hues of dusk,

Then plummet, invisible against the rippling green sea,

To swoop and rise again in a breath-stealing wonder.

A murmur, a wave, of sound, of dance, of song,

Gloriously pulsates in mesmerising harmony,

Lighting up the sky within, in a spectacle of rapture,

Before going home to roost.






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The Divine Illuminator
						

			 / Chloe Kyle						 / 6 Comments
								

			


		

		
Some days I feel engulfed,


Smothered by the tenacious fetor,


Of past misdeeds, untrue words or harsh thoughts,


That weaken me so I curl up and hide.


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Under a warm duvet of pretence,


False comforts of rich food and wine,


I find paltry balm. Until I awaken,


To the debris I’ve buried myself in.




 


I curse myself for dwelling,


In these dark dingey parts of me.


Yet my attention is stuck here,


Entrenched in dank sticky mud.




 


It’s like a flashlight is exposing all,


This ugly dross I’ve hidden from myself.


The anger that I’d stashed under the carpet,


The grief that I’d placed out of sight.




 


“It’s a gift”, He whispers gently,


Lifting the veil I’d placed over my eyes.


And I see the illuminator of this pain,


The bearer of the torch, is my Beloved.




 


He shows me how each hidden gripe,


Each speck of vanity, fear or remorse,


When seen in the gaze of His compassion,


Is a precious lesson in what I am not.




 


We sweep them up together.


Dredging the channels of my consciousness,


Of these memories, gathered like driftwood,


That weigh me down and block my view.




 


With the eyes of a lioness,


Batting away her precocious cubs,


I throw these children of my creation,


Into the river of His abundant love.




 


And embrace the wisdom they bring.


Unexpected truths gained through harsh experience,


Hard fought attainments released in an instant’s clarity.


The purpose of all lifetimes revolutionised in a flash.




 


I watch the chaff being washed away,


 In a torrent of love that fills my being.


And see that the agony of this illumination,


Is just a calling to embody what I truly I am.




 


In this divine alchemy,


This dissolving of particles no longer needed,


The true me becomes clearer, lighter.


Ready to rise up to a greater radiance.