Wounds of Humanity

Image by Enrique Meseguer of Madrid on Pixabay

The inspiration for this piece came to me while I was working on my third book, The Bottom.  In writing the section on cutting, came visions of another paradox of humanity. Amidst the great paradise of Earth and our human lives, exists a very real living hell.

This child came from a forgotten place.  The baby came from an unseen universe , straight from the force of God Himself.

My soul called out for her, and her soul answered.  She traveled through the unseen universe, and entered into the black nothing from whence all creation comes.  Through this place of miracles, she grew, until God placed her into my waiting hands.

Such a perfect and immaculate miracle.  I beheld great beauty, I smelled the sweetness of purity.  I touched the warmth of life.

Suddenly this precious infant is no longer.  Now this child is grown tall, and become so far away from my loving arms.  Her once pristine skin is as a map, and it tells a story of pain. Blood and scars mark this perfect body.  Her wounds ooze poison. I see the horror of what lies within. My eyes recall the innocence of this skin, which is now torn and desolate.  She is a battlefield, and the war is forever recorded on the lines of her body. What have I done?

Should I have not desired to join together with this spirit?  Do I now regret the asking? I had felt called to bring her into this world, and God had answered.  I am connected to this soul, and she is connected to me. Were it such that I could go back and not bring her forth—I have sentenced her to a prison of agony.  In my own desire, I have brought immense suffering upon an innocent soul and brought her forth into hell..

“See now that I, even I, am he, and there is no god with me: I kill, and I make alive; I wound, and I heal: neither is there any that can deliver out of my hand.” Deuteronomy‬ ‭32:39‬ ‭KJVA‬‬

But perhaps she had called out for me, and I had answered.  Perhaps this tortured spirit sought a return to paradise, a comfort she had not yet known.  Perhaps I was to show her Eden. But how do I take her there? What parts of me are standing in opposition to the pure melding of our souls?  I can not look upon her blood soaked bed. I turn from the cuts that cover her limbs. I am gripped by a powerful fear when I approach her. My throat constricts, my heart pounds in my chest, and my hand trembles as I reach to open her door.  I watch her sleep. She is unaware. Tears stream in rivers down my face. My pain is unbearable to me. I can only wonder at the depths of her pain. I envision that my agony is only a small portion of her own. I see her body, but can see no more.

Her wounds are inside, they fester.  They cry out to me, they cut me to the very depths of my being.  My mind races, my body rushes inside. I feel panic rise up and my desire is to rush to her.  The outer wounds are only there to offer a glimpse of what lies within. What is this agony? How can this be?  How can an innocent one suffer so? Is her body abhorrent to her? She has fallen prey to the ages of shame—the shame of illusion.  We are taught that we are born filthy. We are taught that women are a disgrace. We are taught that our humanity is unholy. This world has lain all of these unbearable beliefs into this perfect little daughter.  She has come forth bearing the weight of humanity’s sin. She has carried to me the burdens of the generations, and she has lain them at my feet. There is great expectation. Is this her holy dharma? Did I not call this forth?  With horror I consider all of this.

I must answer.  Now I must bind and cure.  But how? How do I heal that which cannot be seen?  What agony lies within, and shows so plainly on her once perfect body.  What battle must I face against what holds her spirit captive? Are her cuts those same injuries as those of Jeremiah?   As have I done, the prophet cried out to God for relief. “For I will restore health unto thee, and I will heal thee of thy wounds, saith the Lord; because they called thee an Outcast, saying, This is Zion, whom no man seeketh after.” Jeremiah‬ ‭30:17‬ ‭KJVA‬‬

I know now.   God will heal her.  God will anoint her with the oil of joy.  The incense of heaven will one again be strong upon her skin.  The clarity of her sovereignty will shine around her. I bemoan the time spent not knowing these answers.  I regret the arrogance of striving to find salvation anywhere but in God’s light. I sought earthly remedies, and erroneously  empowered others to be the way for us. I must now seek forgiveness, and the strength to carry out the binding of her wounds. As God brought her forth through me, I must now call upon that same power..  Today, I call out for her once again, but in a new and different way. I draw her soul to mine in holy communion. We rest in the light of God and receive our inheritance—peace, love, truth, and joy. Together we will know God and enter into the kingdom of heaven, as we exist in human bodies here on Earth.  He will show us the Eden that surrounds us—no longer will it be hidden from us. Our journey has just begun.

Will she one day call out for another–an innocent and perfect child such as she?  Or will another call out to her, to be brought forth through God’s power? Will this child grow to see her mother’s scars—the evidence of the agony here in this world and beyond?  Will my child answer?

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1 Response to Wounds of Humanity

  1. James Cabeceiras says:

    Very Powerful Robin!


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