Enter the temple

Healing the Wounds of the Soldier Returned

ome to my temple, sweet Soldier, lay your weapons to the side, and I will sit you down in a soft chair.

I will remove your dusty boots and wash your feet with my sighs, until your heartbeat slows and you remember you are safe now.

I will sit before you and gaze into you, watching the terror play behind your eyes as the memories roll through, and I will not look away.

I will bring your hands to my lips and I will kiss your bruised knuckles as my heart breaks with the knowledge that yours has broken too.

Broken from the memory of standing proud and tall in uniform, your mind filled with visions of glory, your chest filled with pride at the thought of giving your body and spirit in service to something greater than yourself.

Broken from leaving home and family behind to walk a path many have trodden before only to never return.

Broken from the harsh realities of giving away all sense of self and having your identity broken down, your mind twisted up in a script that takes your freedom and replaces it with another man's money making mission.

Broken from realizing that in this realm, you are simply a well-trained commodity and for those to whom you have pledged your allegiance, your life is fully expendable.

Broken from bonding closely with comrades, knowing you have each other's backs, then watching them fall in horrific ways, one after the other.

Broken from being ordered to do terrible things without ever questioning where those orders came from or why.

Broken from being in the thick of the fire as bombs drop and bullets fly and life crumbles all around you.

Broken from the memory of staring another soldier in the eyes and watching his expression turn from surprise to pain to nothing as your bullet finds its mark.

Broken from giving all that you have and then some.

Broken from surviving it all and returning home only to realize that the people you fought so hard for couldn't understand, empathize or make space for what you've been through.

Broken from surviving it all and returning home only to realize that the government you gave your soul in service to was not equipped to support you and tend to your wounds, both those you can see and those you can't.

Broken from realizing that there is a larger game afoot, one that has been played for millennia by those far removed, who could never understand the impact their choices had on your mind, your spirit, and your body.

But I understand, because I can feel it.
I know where the scars and trauma dwell in your body, where the bullets have punctured your armour and the awareness has punctured your soul.

I feel you, sweet Soldier.
I can feel where it hurts.

Will you allow me to help remove your armour now? It served you once by keeping you protected, but you are safe here in this temple with me, and I can see how it has grown heavy.

Will you allow me to remove your armour piece by piece, laying those burdensome layers aside to be melted down and transformed into something new?

Will you allow me to bathe your naked form in glistening jewel-studded pools, as the whispers of the warm water cleanse your weary body and my humming song cleanses your weary mind?

Will you allow me to rub ointment into your aching muscles and stroke herbal salves over your open wounds, dressing them and kissing each sore place, allowing the salt of my tears to wash all parts of you clean?

Will you allow me to take you into my arms so you can rest your head against my bosom and return to the innocense of the young child you once were, so full of life and hope and dreams, held in the arms of the Mother, loved and surrounded?

It's alright now, my child. The nightmare is over. I've got you, I've got you.

You can cry if you need to.
It's safe to let go.

Will you allow me to take you into my body, to gently ride the waves of sensation, to breathe and move and sound and shake until the traumas of war are released from your body and fed into my womb, which is connected to the cosmic womb, so I can give that energy back to source?

Will you allow yourself to open to the pleasure that washes over you, flooding into those empty and hurting places, activating the remembrance of who you are at your very core?

You, my love, are no soldier.
You bend the knee to no man.
You are not a pawn in some elite game where life and your humanity are expendable.

No.

You are God.
You are a child of the Earth and Cosmos.
You are the consort of the Divine Feminine, the Protector of Life, the sacred spark and grounding rod that drives creation home.

And you, my Beloved Warrior, have come home.

I welcome you.
And I thank you for your sacrifice.

For it is only through experiencing war that we truly come to appreciate peace.

Let us know peace together.