“Amethyst:” a poem for wisdom and illumination

Amethyst

The amethyst in my hand
teaches me about permanence
and the grace of dissolution.
It speaks of ancient wisdom
and the patience of time. 

Holding it to my cheek,
I listen for the voice beneath
and I hear this:

In all our lives there is
a central point,
a focusing image,
a deity in whom we place
our brittle trust.
From that well we try 
to draw water, hoping
to slake our thirst.

Yet, only in your shadow
will I find you, the false idols
I have worshiped shattered
around my feet.

Time and time again,
we are called to pay attention
and take our true place
in the world of mysteries,
the true world behind illusion.

You tell me my secret name,
carved on the inside of my heart
where only you can see it,
for you placed it there.

The unanswerable questions must
be whispered softly, under the breath
where only the one who is meant 
to hear them can do so.

In the end there is only one 
question to be asked
and we spend our entire lifetimes
gathering words like dry wood
to set aflame and cast a light
on our deepest yearnings.

You take what I most despise
about myself and bring it softly
to your lips, tasting my pain and hope,
your gentle breath soothing
my parched soul.

“What is the soul?” I ask
and you teach me:

“The soul is a circle
drawn in the air by my finger,
not perfect but strong enough
and nimble to embrace every memory
etched on your face 
illumined by the moonlight.

Grace is the silhouette cast
when I stand between you and
the sharp brightness of your fear.”

Now, you drip truth into my mouth
like cool water from the tip
of your finger, drop after drop,
giving my tongue time
to savor the freshness of your presence. 

And from the silence you speak again:

“Between you and me
there is no between. 

All is held. 
All is known.
All is transformed.
All is made whole.”

--Stuart Higginbotham