Heart Surgery

The heart of the spiritual life is the journey inwards – to be a pilgrim of our own soul, not as some sort of narcissistic complex, but to explore that holy ground where we may meet God Himself. A wonderful but terrfiying place…

When I go inwards,

To that universe there,

Travelling in silence,

Meditation and prayer,

And if I take time,

In humble submission,

What might I find

If I loiter and listen?


If I look upon… me:

The central, essential,

Deep down core of me,

Beyond the cerebral,

And conscious control,

Behind the public face,

To what may be a dark,

Even fearsome place.


This journey is fraught,

As I struggle to still;

As I slap down thoughts,

Knowing that slapping will

Only corrugate calm:

Boistrous distractions play

Havoc with my plan,

Rachetting my dismay.


The baggage of years,

Lived in frantic haste;

Precious gifts spoiled,

Gone largely to waste.

The harvest of a life,

Lived in unquiet mood,

Prey to all weathers,

Reaps moral lassitude.


The Spirit’s tin opener,

To my can of worms:

Sharp blade of healing,

Wielded on His terms.

Radical surgery if

I can face the pain:

Interior enlightening,

For exterior gain?


For the route is clear:

Be still and know… Me.

In knowing Him, the

Ability to better be.

To ‘waste time’ with Him,

Is to enhance all time,

And to possess oneself,

In a superior clime.