Young
child injured to the heart of his soul by a poison dagger. No healers were
there for him. Shame of his capitulation to the poison dagger keeps the boy
silent, He tells no one of his injury.
The injury is savage it is killing him, Blindly he stumbles around searching
for healing. He feels weak and pathetic – worthless yet he does not give
in… he searches. He learns little by little ways to stop the poison dagger
putrefying his soul, from killing him.
He is always searching, even when he thinks he is sleeping. His life becomes
a search. He reads, he listens, he learns. He operates upon himself.
Unsteady and lacking in the skills of healing he does what he can to keep
his soul alive, to live and be part of life.
He does brilliantly. His soul breathes life. He lives, he learns, he
journeys ever more, ever searching. Yet there is a cost. He healed the open
wound as best he could, but he was a child and did not have the knowledge of
a true healer – one who understands the poison dagger and the workings of
the soul. His healing protects life, but at the cost of shutting away part
of his soul. At the cost of cutting off some of the channels of living, of
seeing, feeling and knowing others. It cuts off his ability to feel himself.
He yearns for more healing of the kind that can release his trapped soul. Of
the kind that gives light to life. Yet the risk is so great he shies away.
For to truly heal he must allow another into his soul. And it was the
violent entry into his soul by another that almost killed him. His only
experience of soul talk nearly killed him and now he must welcome a healer
in, with open arms and complete trust. Yet all he knows tells him that such
a healer will betray him. Stab him in the soul with a poison dagger and he
knows that he could not survive again the savage injury of such a blow, it
would kill him.
To have life he must risk death, to avoid death he must accept a living
death. If it were for he alone, that might be enough, tolerable. But he has
grown now and has children of his own. For their life he must live life. For
living death starves them of soul food – the light of life.
In this is a journey… a story that should be told if only because the
telling is the healing way. No matter that no other reads this story, all
that matters is that it is written, given form.
He
meets some who he spots as poison daggers. He is blind to others and only
avoids fatal injury by chance. He avoids healers and ways that seem right.
Only when destruction is close does he risk, and then he risks as little as
he can. Thrive with pride, give to others so that they may avoid the poison that
scarred your soul.
Take care, hold love whilst it is love and walk away when it is not.
Hope the new day brings you light and strength.
© 1999 Douglas (Fishingdog)
Writen & Kindly Supplied By Douglas (Fishingdog)
All rights reserved.
Young
child with daggers in the heart of his soul 