0010 The Great Release Poem by Michael Shepherd

We begin by loving our parents,
(said the famous author) :
later we judge them;
rarely, if ever, do we forgive them…

a jaundiced view?
we remember (most of the fortunate) that childhood, once,
was bliss, and life was full and endless
and lived entirely in the present,
skies were blue, or rain meant indoor play;
and happiness and joy was always ours..

and yet, we blame our parents…
violently; or gently; or with unspoken qualifications…
made me do this; held this from me;
gave me too little attention; breathed down my neck too much...
the list goes on; the grudge; the shoulder-chip;
what secret solace that such misery affords!
we are so justified - our lovely, wilful selves!

suppose we believed, as Hindus do,
that something of us finds its way, at death,
into another body, another destiny,
in order to progress – or is it rather, to return –
to our god-given, blissful nature,
full of all we need;

and thus it follows as the night the day
- and as the death, the life –
that this our present life was dreamed up
by previous faults, yet set
by some divine program of mercy, providence,
to aid us, a Stoic show-jump course
so cunningly set out that we might overcome,
within ourselves, what stands
in our wished, natural, entitled way to bliss..

the inwardly courageous may take this view
to heart; exclaim triumphantly,
this is the life I chose me for myself –
I chose my parents, and all these seeming
outward, self-depriving, abusive things
around my rediscovering self – for, no-one else to blame;
today is now indeed
the first day of my real life;

and singing on our way, rejoice
to be ourselves as we would be