A poem by Chris van der Weide
The screaming of a mother
Who lost her newborn cub,
The passion of a lover
Who craves life’s every drop,
The last words of a dying man
Who clung with all his might,
The songs of blinding white birds
That rain during their flight
The raging anger of a lawyer
Fighting, red-faced, for his case,
The bubbling laughter of a toddler
Unaware of his own grace,
The innocence of snowbell flowers
When they first appear
In the early light of February
Whispering gently, “spring is near…”
My arms stretch up, higher, taller,
Reaching out for Truth
They tremble in their loneliness,
Longing to be rescued
To be held, to be cradled,
To be kissed with moist, warm lips
To be worshiped and to worship
To catch the rain that gently drips
And to drink this life-brewed liquor
As it falls from heaven’s tree
In which every form dissolves
In sweet union with Thee
With Thy wisdom, with Thy breath,
With Thy overwhelming touch
This heart burns, this soul yearns
This skin cracks, it hurts so much
I know you’re hidden in the dungeon
Of excruciating pain,
I know so, for you came and promised
It in every drop of rain,
Thus, rip me open, tear this skin loose
When I run from Truth in fright,
So surely upon arrival
There won’t be anywhere to hide
Deprive me of my worn-out wardrobe,
Of my words, my ears, my sight,
I am yours Love, come and get me
Come and wed me as Your bride
Chris is a Hridaya teacher and movement and dance facilitator.
