Ajaya Sommers

A requiem for all that has come to pass - in homage to the four winds

My heart has become a place of spontaneous prayer ~

I, you, we

The beloved’s lips,
the call and response
of every heart beat…

I, you, we

The breath wind under this birds flight.
I hear only the song of my becoming calling me home to this vast freedom, my bride.
For I am the creator, the maker, the beholder of only beauty.

I, you, we

There is no other.
The infinite enters here in this precious finite form
~ river of grace ~ breath of life, called ‘Ajaya’ ~

I am the lover of this moment, the mother of more than enough…
giving birth on top of the ashes of the old script of who used to claim me.

But first there is a few thank-yous before we go on to the second birth…

I bow to the one who knew only the chant ‘never enough’, ‘never enough’,
not good enough…she would say, no matter what gift life would offer her.
I wear the smear of this sweet rainbow, the scar of unworthiness on my face,
as in honoring of the labor
of all that needed to be, of that which has come to pass…

I bow to all the bed-time stories that kept my light safe and hidden
under the heavy and well worn robes (the thoughts of my ancestors) ~
the stories of struggle, the fine displays of disconnection,
the seeking…
of the One in the motion picture drama called: “The mirror.”

I thank you for all the games of suffering where I cheated, pretended and won.
I bow to the pain that is only and ever the resistance to what is.
and for showing me the innocent intelligence that is always present, even in this…

I kiss your face, ghosts of confusion, delusion, distrust, disbelief —
I thank you for the gut wrenching nights of only a heart pounding in a vacant chest…
for the darkness that was my only candle…
for the days of sleeping beside myself and walking dazedly inside a dream I could not fully recognize as my own.

I thank you lonliness, loss and grief who stayed with me like close friends in those long winter months that became years…
for showing me the refuge of a cold bathroom floor, and the relief of utter helplessness…
thank you for helping me find something deeper than comfort, for giving me a strength and a courage to tell the truth,
for showing me the place that was willing to die, only to discover a true passion to live.

I thank you sweet fear for your false whistles, rattles and drums, for your deafening demands,
for breaking me down…to the ground…and showing me my guts
that I may rise with a depth that is worth standing for.

I thank you for steering Dear Beloved so that I could be the passenger dreaming out the window,
making peace with the changing scenes—tears streaming, washing me clean, showing me the territory of my awakening.

Bless you, dear beloved, for taking me this far.
For holding my hand, hearing my prayers, for walking me around the medicine wheel, on my knees…
sometimes face dragging in the dirt.
Thank you for throwing me down again, when I tried to get up too soon ~
Just as un-ripe fruit is not ready to fall from the tree, thank you for showing me how it feels to hold on.

I thank you for all of these lessons, and most of all for the lesson that is behind all the lessons:
To let go ~ breathe everything close ~ to know myself as the mother with a babe on my breast…
to discover the sweet taste of the milk of my own source spring,
to hold myself dear ~ to know myself as beloved, call myself ‘beloved.’

Thank you for bringing me back to where I started,
with eyes now, that can see and ears that can hear.

To know only the embrace of this open secret that is everywhere.

I can stand naked now, facing the East with these new found feet, rubbing these hands together,
Sparking this heart with wings.

Call me human, divine, precious, humble magnificence, all one and the same ~
Nothing is separate from this.
Every cell is the center
There is nowhere that I am not.

Thank-you, sweet kiss of death, for being the midwife of my becoming.

I say to you, I, we
Teach me, show me, use this life ~
I offer you my story of forgetfulness that is our story of forgetfulness…
for the love of the home-coming of the whole.

For the love of the journey.

For the love.

May it serve us well ~


Having the auspicious opportunity of being raised within a Sufi community and by a family of healers, from a very early age, I discovered the power of love and our innate capacity to heal or integrate all life experience inside the awareness of our true nature. Although I experienced many hardships as all human beings do, I believe that my original innocence or conscious connection with spirit was always supported and has allowed me to carry the gift of seeing and thus supporting this aspect of another, particularly in times of challenge.