St. Anthony

This picture was taken 400 feet underground in a Tennessee cave. Amidst the dark depths, a wishing well was started some years back as visitors were drawn to the small, constant pool of water. When we see water, often we are reminded of movement, fluidity, life, and healing. These coins are like offerings, signs of hope from those who travelled far beneath to move upward toward something better and more life-giving. This wishing well was a spectacular, glittering presence in a dark underground world. When I came upon it I was reminded of a poem I wrote about soul retrieval, and how St. Anthony is associated with helping us retrieve that which was lost, stolen, or misplaced. I believe our souls can't ever really be lost, but we can feel so disconnected from ourselves that we need intervention from a higher Source to reconnect and reunite and "find" ourselves again. This poem is a representation of the metaphorical "retreival" of my soul when I finally wasn't afraid to make the journey down in order to come up again. Note the word "retrieve" means "to get back again", "rescue", or "recover". 

St. Anthony

BREATHING, STILL BREATHING,

so I must be alive.

But my shallow breaths

match the shallow depths

where my soul could not survive.

LOST, EVER LOST,

yet I search for my soul.

But where does one look?

There is no instruction book.

And my life feels out of control.

St. Anthony, hear my plea.

My soul I need to retrieve.

St. Anthony, illuminate the way.

And may the angels around me stay.

STRENGTH. I'M GAINING STRENGTH

My hope is not in vain.

I breathe deep and slow,

intuiting the way to go,

knowing I must cross harsh terrain.

TRUSTING, FAITHFULLY TRUSTING

though nothing is yet found.

My soul floats on the air,

waiting . . . somewhere.

And I seek it like a bloodhound.

St. Anthony, hear my plea.

My soul I need to retrieve.

St. Anthony, illuminate the way.

And may the angels around me stay.

DARK, SO DARK

is the place I must go.

Seeking the eternal ember of light,

hidden deep within the night,

I feel the nearness of its glow.

WARMER, FEELING WARMER;

the ember’s heat reaches me.

My eyes gaze upon a vision:

a spiritual collision

of who I am and what I can be.

St. Anthony, hear my plea.

My soul I need to retrieve.

St. Anthony, illuminate the way.

And may the angels around me stay.

SUDDEN, VERY SUDDEN,

a hand extends out toward me.

When it touches my face,

I feel calmed by its grace,

and my eyes close in reverie.

 

MOVING, I AM MOVING.

A strong hand now in mine.

It’s pulling me

from the chaotic debris,

allowing my senses to realign.

OPEN, MY EYES ARE OPEN.

In front of me he bows.

Holding a crescent-shaped bowl,

St. Anthony returns my soul,

and all I can ask is, “How?”

LISTENING, I AM LISTENING

to one much wiser than me.

One who heard my distress,

and found me worthy to bless.
NOW MY SOUL IS RETRIEVED.

Copyright © 2012 by Jenna Love