More on Into the Lion’s Den:
The second time, I was pushed to write was in February 2017, while recovering from Standing Rock at a friend’s home in the Seattle area. While sitting with my morning coffee, these words flew from a pen:
Before there was, I was.
And again, I am; the ceaseless answer to the call and prayer, “Hear us, oh Lord.”
I am the light; a lumined torch so that we may see.
I am the bread; to sate the hunger for spirit and bring comfort in fear.
I am the door; a threshold through which all may walk.
I am the good shepherd; guided by the hearts’ call.
I am the vine bringing the drunken love of the divine.
Again, I am. Born of water, bathed in fire; from stone I’ve grown and beast become.
I walk with thunder, dance on wings between rain, and
spin through the heart of man.
Again, I am. The son that rises in the West.
The womb of the heart and the breath between the Breath.
Again, I am.
I can’t remember if I wrote the above 108 times or 48 times, but I wrote the same thing over and over again, page after page after page. I could not stop and, I’m certain, if I could have, I would not have been permitted to. Cold coffee and five cramped fingers, I had a pile of papers and a, “Stop now. The word is life.” All of it pretty darn biblical for a woman without a biblical background, even though I knew what was happening as the pen flew. I don’t know how I knew, but know it I did.