Soul Searching
A story poem about a farmer, his dog, and our own souls
Soul Searching
As night descends, a fear of forever loss ambles in unannounced. Something tectonic has shifted, a stark contrast with a long shadow hangs over many years of springs and summers, of loves enjoyed and harvests reaped. There’s a beckoning whisper, haunting yet familiar, compelling like a seductress. I must go hunting for the meat of the matter – discovering what lies buried below, in caverns carved by underground rivers, forgotten and forlorn. I’m taking on the underworld – an archeologic dig without logic, only heart – pursuing the Lost Ark, my true inheritance, unearthing the elemental archive that was me from the beginning. Like the farmer in Doolin in search of his dog, his buddy in life – the one who carried burdens too big for him to bear alone – a four-legged embodiment of service and love missing since dawn. A fear of forever loss gripped his heart. He left home, searching with flashlight in hand, well into the night, his determination growing in measure to his fear. No loss of hope prevented him another step until he stumbled upon a passageway ample for and inviting to a curious canine, a hole barely big enough for him to slip into. There in the belly of the cave, his pup lay curled up and waiting. He bundled him in his arms. Sitting in the dripping and the dark, the farmer wept. Flashlight in hand, I’m leaving – scouring my ground, diving into darkness, defying fear until I stumble on that entryway just big enough for me to slip into. Once inside, watching for clues, listening for cries, I’ll follow the call into the depths of my being. Armed with shovel, bucket, brush and camera, maps and measures, baggies and marking pens, soul parts will to be tagged and labeled, gently cleansed of unwarranted criticism. Photographs taken, memories catalogued, details recorded in the margin, I’ll gather what can be exhumed from beneath the shroud of humanness, all that was preserved and protected from life’s fire. I’ll reclaim what’s enduring before childhood happened, before adolescence and eating disorders and competition took a toll, before young adulthood practiced, preserved, and locked-in protections, defenses and coping strategies in service of accomplishment and reward. All this, the perfect cover for a floundering soul dropped headlong into another life of learning. With Love I’ll return each finding to their proper places. I’ll bundle me in my arms and behold a miracle … and weep.
In exploring the legend of the Lost Ark of the Covenant, I discovered the connection to the Lion of Judah. Jacob blesses his son Judah, head of one of the twelve tribes, as a “young lion” in the book of Genesis. Genesis provides us the mythical accounting of the origin of the world and of our True Self.