I find my Sacred Lake. I call my ancestral tribe of sacred servants: All you healers, mystics, medicine women and men, teachers, nurses, doctors, shamans, holy ones, warriors. All of you who pour out your blood on the fragile grass of lives, who surrender your comforts for the chance to comfort a soul in despair. Together, this healing prayer, we share:

 I care… to be human… I won’t let this mantra leave me. I won’t let this moment take me, break me. I am ember waiting to be flame, waiting to warm these shivering masses. Oh Grace, ignite me again.

My heart is so many things: a lake rippling in the breeze, panting for shore, for safety, security, mine, theirs. My heart a dream of how beautiful this world can be. My heart the suffering of vulnerable ones huddled on the Trail of Tears. My heart an open valley, the lushness growing there, families gathered, verified, dignified.

My heart these endless memories of when we were intimate in sacred ways, when we sat by the fire and gazed upon illuminated faces, seeing straight into their souls, discovering their true nature, naked of the mask. My heart a Love letter to the world, punctuated passionately, drafted by candlelight in the storm, sealed by the wax of my concentrated tears.

My heart this mantra, pouring out endlessly, staying me in a place of Hopeful urgency, of Calm immediacy, shepherding voices to graze their own organic power and reach.

I wash my face in Sacred Lake. I clean my wounds in Sacred Lake. I fortify my courage at Sacred Lake. I remember my Divine Power at Sacred Lake. I forgive my trespasses and my trespassers at Sacred Lake. I fill my hunger, quench my thirst at Sacred Lake. I renew my Faith at Sacred Lake. I release my Love at Sacred Lake. I find myself at Sacred Lake and journey forward, my soul and service both vessels forever holding my Sacred Lake.

Woodpecker taps out the code for Peace. I open my chest and transcribe the truth. Cardinal and bluebird color my moment. I brush my imagination with their wondrous paint. I stop and smell an orchid, and realize orchid has stopped to smell me. So I bathe in the fragrance of a kinder meadow, wave smoke of sweet grass over my body. I become incense, Sun lights me. I burn, curl, and rise to the altitude where I cannot be touched by human cruelty and coldness.

I am warm sky, eagles draft me, we trade vision, I see my quarry: Harmony and Bliss in the midst of this soul service. I melt my walls of fear in a furnace of caring, daring to transform into an even Greater tool for human kind. Still glowing, my steel bends into an unbelievable Force, my glass polishes into a crystal face.

I kiss Bliss, Bliss kisses back… In this land of many wolves, I civilize the pack. I lead us to my Sacred Lake, where, heads bowed in collective Namasté, we  stare deep into the clear reflection and see our purpose shimmering on the watery plate:

We were born to serve this Humanity. Caring is our calling. Soul service is our fate.

I find myself at Sacred Lake.



This poem is a publication of Soul Water Rising. Dissemination and reposting for educational and inspirational use only is encouraged. *Written for Social Worker Appreciation Month. JAIYA JOHN is founder of Soul Water Rising, a global human mission based in Silver Spring, Maryland. He serves through poetry, writing, speaking, and youth mentoring and advocacy. He has addressed a quarter of a million youth and adults, always with the intent of stirring the soul to remember itself. Jaiya is a doctor of psychology and was a professor of social psychology at Howard University from 1995 to 1998. He also studied Tibetan holistic medicine in the Himalayan nation of Nepal in 1988.

Jaiya John has recently published his book, Fresh Peace.





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