Start gentle with holding, with loving
those parts that others broke open. Your cells are folding around the memory, but help them forget. Talk to your body in whispering sound: it’s over now, I hold you into safety. It’s over now
and your spiral life is unraveling each day, each day closer to the homecoming.
Start gentle with cupping
under those breasts that have been trudging. Their tip still holds on to a terrible dream. Can you drop it? The dream?
And I know when your own hands pass across your body light as the wind after a storm, I know how your cells shrink with a frightened remembrance of that pain. Talk to your skin in whispering sound: it’s over now, I am not here to take and demand. It’s over now
and the marks have not scarred what is visible. Your scars are rooted deep – miraculous threads of gold, your scars are doors to a deeper knowing. Golden fibres of being
Start gentle with loving, with kissing the top of your shoulder – a small mountain, powerful. With squeezing feeling inbetween your toes: wake up I am here to love you.
Most importantly I am here to witness your multitude of Being. No words can keep you between their harsh lined containers, no path can keep you from wandering in search for more, and more, I want more god and grief, wonder, more soul and song, silence, more hairs rising on my skin with a visceral bliss,
more.
Start gentle with placing your tired palms on the altar of your Womb, the only Holy place you’ll ever need to stumble upon in the life you have chosen. Can you feel the slow pulsing of life?
Can you hear the cadence of the sacred drum of life? And talk to your Womb in whispering sound: it’s over now, open, loosen, open, it’s over now.
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