Being

For so long I conflated my power with my violence. In this misconception I began to shy away from my power in fear I would hurt others. These last few days it’s become evident that is not the case. My violence was not my power, my heart is and always has been. My tenderness with myself and self acceptance is. My stance in my self respect is. My ability to see love even in places where it can be difficult to, that’s powerful. My innate power and acknowledgement of my innate power, is my sovereignty. Which is not a doing, it is very simply my being. I don’t have to do anything to be powerful. I already am and always have been.

The play is over.

In looking I’ve realized I have spent much of my life subconsciously looking at history like a play wondering where do I fit, what part is mine to take on? The thing is, the play is over. It’s over. I don’t have to follow a role. I can do whatever I want. It’s a worthwhile play to learn from, not a play for me to keep leapfrogging throughout my life in the name of preservation. Not to perpetuate it blindly based on the fear of perpetuating it blindly. 
Every part of history is mine. I belong to every single part of it as it is ultimately about humanity, this planet and its inhabitants. I am not separate from any of it. I am both innocent and guilty. Not from shame from awareness, self love and self acceptance. It is all mine. I belong. With that lesson in mind I am free. The play is over. Who I choose to be now is solely my responsibility.

I believe we all have wings

I believe we all have wings Tipped upward unfurling from within

Can you feel their beat?

Heart sanctified 

Feathers guilded with surprise 

Soul aria 

Requiring no agreement 

I feel their touch in my smile

Everything is OK

It is all Divine

Flap of wings whisper, Are you ready?

Body relaxes into a delicious Yes

Wonder negates gravity 

Anything is possible.

I have slain dragons and touched on my own dragons bloodSurvived the troll bridges

Serpentine waters

Breathed fire across the burning lakes

Led wars in victory and defeat

Torn my armor to pieces with quivering hands

Drank poison and its remedy

Seen words on tender

Catapulted through shock

Flown with and became feather

Learned the songs of many tribes

Which season my accent to this day

I have bathed and watched the caked mud

Splatter to my toes

I have traveled many lands

All to just come back to my teddy bear

Upon the orange blossomAs buildings do fall

Their burning death release

Old habits in their wake

For metaphor does know it’s dream

Equates to hidden power

A remembering of old connect

Screams mourn end of reign

Shaking as babe from cold birth

Immunized from plentiful virus

Underground way permitted

Cleansed of wretched hold on desire

To claim address in shattering walls

Terrifying and exuberating 

The travel to lands unseen

Accompanied with friendly travelers 

And blood of own pristine 

Adventure calls the open hearted

Terror but an open door

Leading onto guided path

Relaxing into train of splendor

Giving up steering

Driving no more


*Artist of painting unknown

Words my own.

Inner Journey

When I am feeling tender I go to the only place that can bring me solace, in. Touch hands with my inner child, hold her and let her hold me, love me, mold and paint my face. I find myself by a seaside fire with every age of me up to my crone with their hands on my heart. I let the tears pour as I share this love with myself.
Do you journey inward? What do you find?