I Choose To Find My Own Way Home

I could have found my own way home. Instead I chose to follow those who have no sense of love at all. No sense of respect, so laden down are they with their pretty images of self. They who find life a competition to be won, a game to be played, rather than a love to be shared or support to be offered. Indeed, I found myself once again in a divinely granted situation (aren’t they all my dear?) dropped into a hopeful situation filled with options and potential. “Sit, nourish yourself” I heard the choir singing— “Sink into your wholeness.” I instead clung to the oh so familiar— the who do you think you are?!— the cowering at the idea of self-empowerment— the how dare you?!— so easy are they. Anything but deciding— Who Am I? Anything but I Am…

Another piece of gold laid at my feet, I wandered away like a good little 60 year old girl, feeling the sweet familiarity of depletion. I was abandoned once again. By myself.

I awaken with a shifted perspective, the stubborn pattern of self sabotage, so brutally etched into, me falling away— an avalanche of emotional debris cleared— the mountain of my individuality solid, uncluttered, shining in the rising sun. My root untangled I cast my sight into the dark blue inky color of vision- the color of the sweet unknown— the color of the limitless. I sense the, no longer fleeting, beauty of love granting me the sight to see into and through all that is.

In my waking hours, in the throes of clarity, crown lifting, root sinking in, heart open —
I choose to find my own way home.

Tricia 5 13 20 23— SEVEN

I Suppose-- A Poem of Gratitude

I suppose my voice has been with me since before my time on Earth.

And once I was conceived, guided the timing of my birth

For the perfect circumstances for that supreme succession,

Events bringing the lessons that could eliminate my obsessions.

I suppose that my parents were chosen specifically for me

The combining of their energies offering exactly what I’d need

To evolve into the adult that I have so uniquely become

To stand upon my mountain, beat my solitary drum.

 

I suppose when I leave the Earth there’ll be a certain sort of heartache

& my energetic influence will fly free to start the remake

Perhaps that voice will call, to remind me of what lives on

As I find an orbit, a new found sphere, another ocean to make waves upon.