Thursday, February 27, 2014
The Saviors (poem)
The Saviors
When I first started browsing
in this area,
there were a few trusty voices:
the alchemists of old (see Jung),
the ancient Siberian shamans
(try Eliade),
and of course the great myths,
Campbell’s archetypes to awaken
and guide us,
tell us who we are.
And there were
a few authentic teachers,
but you had to
find them on
your own
and proceed
with caution.
There was no “inter net.”
No constant deluge of
“savants,” each offering to
“awaken” us,
tell us how to become
more than we would have guessed
or ever thought possible.
Now they are everywhere,
messages loud and
insistent as barkers’ cries
at a county fair:
how to become a millionaire
in ten easy lessons,
yoga to attain
a perfect body,
where to go
to connect with the gods,
how to reach full enlightenment
in thirty days.
Where are the elders,
the ones who knew
and quietly spoke,
whose careful wisdom words were like
honey in the throat,
bread for our eager hands?
Dorothy Walters
February 27, 2014
