Donkey Story

Cher-lynn speaks

I am speaking directly to you,
because faucon will not tell the story,
nor any of the other dozen miracles
encountered/embraced since out joining.

How do I tell it? Each day we meet strangers
and depart with them and us the better for it.

A married couple on verge of disillusion –
now they sing as one and I know more of respect.

A man in despair over a lost brother –
faucon did this Kalbadam thing
and my feet are still tingling,
but there is sunshine in the grotto
where the man carves a statue –
now.

Forget all that! Here is what happened.

We came upon a meadow – a whole valley
it came to be realized – dying!
The fragile eco system
sustaining life and prayer and dream
was imbalanced. Partially this was from
diligent beavers above – building dams,
which is their right without question.
and man built dams,
which is their right,
but perhaps in question.
Be it told by right,
more than 7,000,000 trees, animals
and insect spirits were be undone.

“No,” I cried. “This will not pass!”

“Then it will not be so,” said he.

“I have a debt or two to call upon the Tengri,
and we can do this if you will pay the price.”

“What then must I do – I but a flight-lame donkey”

“Agree in advance that whatever the price
to save this valley you will pay it – it is called prayer.”

I realized in an instant that this decision
had little to do with a parched meadow
and dwindling fern and hidden frog;
but that this Attention existed because
of my choice to have it so,
and that my decision here
merely echoed a vote for life
everywhere.

“Volo”, said I.

As I turned to faucon, he was transformed
into medieval garb, with longish hair,
sandals and fearsome sword.

“I am Kiyan, the Gusari,” whispered he in thunder.

“I will speak to the beaver of the high valley
we passed yesterday. You will transport them there.”

“I am not allowed to fly,” I stammered.

“I did not say take them!”

I pondered. The beavers gathered at my feet,
longingly, trustingly –
understanding that their future rested
in my willingness to help –
unable to fly,
barely able to speak,
but of Source for all of that.

“Save them!” commanded the Shadow Light.

So, I stopped the universe in its path
‘till the future meadow caught up;
for all things are in motion relative
to each other,
and we need not go anywhere,
but be
and bid the tremulence come to us –
and this I can do.

Kiyan lay in the meadow – arms akimbo,
and I by his side,
weary from having flown to ever,
but having a debt to pay
and desire to sing.

The Tengri scurried clouds to bow
and ancient dust begat tears of welcome,
and we danced in the rain
and will again
tomorrow.

papa now trudges ahead,
a bit slumped perhaps –
but I??

I find that I must for ever more,
find a flower
and give it to a stranger.

I can bring this gift to thee –
and that is better than flying
any day.