I don't want to remain hidden
but I also don't want to "be seen".
I guess it's been this way since I can remember.
May this be rooted in my difficulties of facing a life passed on?
Possibly one that ended abruptly and painfully.
Weep validations for her soul.
So deeply enchanted with panicky escapism.
Just waiting to discover
The trees beckon her in.
A safety net.
The protection of millions of centuries.
Fabric that now is wearing thin.
Why continue to patch what deserves renewal?
through all the love and attention it sought out for you;
why pick at a wound as it yearns to heal?
Quit hurting yourself.
Love your flaws and actively work through the crunchy parts.
Bags and totes.
Enough to carry.
Enough to be held.
But if only She could find rebirth in this shell.
The birds sing to me
their ability for flight brings me
rooted with my sisters and brothers.
I am made of soil.
I am made of dust.
Light pours through the streams
and rivers illuminate the landscape.
How do you really know
if you are living?
What gives you the idea...
well, It's important to give.
Give compassion and friendship and honor the bones you've been
given the chance to experience.
Be easier on them.
They carry the load .
The Soul's Sherpa.
Sun rise and sundown.
Find and honor the gratuity that swaddles you
like a fresh soul come down.
So worthy of being held.
Not yet aware there may be reason to run.
what do you fear they'll find out?
Who is the hunter?
She feels their presence.
Taunting me with fear.
At last it's only now an awareness.
It's not yours.
Forever, to be Held.
As the trees weep thank yous,
humbly they stand in