True Nature Calling

The fire is lit. The spell is cast.
The guidance is channeled. I’m on my way, at last.
Each step I’ve taken pointing me here.
Each path worn down trying to steer
Me back to myself, my true nature calling.
The compass, my heart, fears only stalling
To protect me from overestimated harm.
Not realizing that my true nature would charm
The foggy path forward, each step veiled until
The next clue appeared, pulling me forward still
Fearing and worried that without a plan
I’d step into mortal danger unable to withstand.

But my heart called me forward to give and receive.
My gut knew, it said yes, it’s time to believe
What I’ve known in my heart and my gut all along
“Share your love, write it out, give it away, sing your song”
“You’ve known it for months, gifted from Them-Tree,
The keys to your future, to belonging to me”
Whole in myself, fears, joy, anger and all
Knowing I’d stagnate if I didn’t heed the call.

I take the next step into the light and undress
I shed my armor, let it fall and then bless
My newborn vulnerability, courage and curiosity
And in courage stand bare with my gifts for all to see

We each have a gift burning inside.
What’s your gift to share? Let it glow, why hide?
The world awaits our gifts, each one of us has
Something of value to offer engraved from our past.
The armor you carry may feel heavy and strong,
But your gifts beg to shine, armor protects only so long.

So I invite you to join me round the fire tonight
Come dance your dance, come share your light.
Come join the fray in this journey of life.
Sitting still, staying safe only amplifies your strife.
Come shed your armor, bare your soul with me.
In sharing our gifts, we can set ourselves free.

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3 Comments

  1. If I may…a poem sometime after 11/2020…
    EXOSKELETON
    What’s left reflects the being.
    The dead body presents itself
    as the living body carried itself.
    The outgrown encasing of the
    spider
    floated down from the tip of my
    finger
    just as though it were alive,
    descending its web
    to catch a fly.
    Carried by the air,
    empty,
    it came down
    mimicking its life –
    nothing alive in it –
    a dead encasing its owner outgrew.
    Or was it the feeling of the fear
    of the spider alive
    that kept its mobility,
    was the dead exoskeleton
    alive with the perpetual image
    of the spider
    through my eyes.
    Its life in the eyes of the beholder.
    Is that how our souls survive.

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