Revised....

Without your wounds where would you be?
The very angels themselves cannot persuade the wretched and blundering children of earth as can one human being broken in the wheels of living. In love’s service, only the wounded soldiers can serve.

Thornton Wilder

Soul Water

In the wood of the wounded
A pond glitters its golden salve
A beckoning to all the wild men
And hairy men who've learned to cry
To come and be healed.
I dipped my wounded finger
In the liquid crystal
And it turned to gold.
My wound is my gift.
The fathers who were not
Are guilty of the mothers
Who were not, of the sons
Who were and finally broke the chain
In the healing waters.

Who will let thee out hairy one?
You have been entombed many years.
You are seen under the rippled surface
Frozen in its time waiting
For the dawn of your release.
The wound drips its liquid gold
Bearing the gift of its pain.
For the way of healing is found
On the sorrowful path of the fathers.
The mothers found the way
But the fathers are still living
In the deep wood by the water
Of the wounded.

copyright 2003
Ron Russo

With apologies and gratitude to Robert Bly (Iron John)