The Launching

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Traveling a path she has already begun
Deepening the grooves and widening the arcs
Branching out and pulling in
A quickening in the pulses of momentum
Preparing to launch herself to where there is no longer road
Preparing to catch fire and soar

Whose Voice?

A metallic chain with an explosed link.

Whose voice will you give authority to speak into your life?
Who will you believe?
Whose voice will you allow to detail your identity?
Or assign value to your worth?

Have you chosen wisely?
Have you chosen well?
Are you blossoming like a flower?
Or withering to the ground?

Are they speaking Truth to you?
Or are they telling lies?
Are you being nourished?
Or paralyzed by poison lodged within your veins?

Whose voice will you give authority to speak into your life?
Who will you believe?
Do you need to change direction?
Do you need to be set free?

At the Crossroads

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I’ve taken a step
and it seems like the right one
but I don’t know if I want to continue

Does this path lead to my increasing liberation?
A chance to feel my legs strong beneath my voice?

Or is the invitation I am responding to
a pretty lure
disguised as something I want
but that will only lead me to re-shackle myself?

I cannot see
I cannot see

And my lack of trust
competes with my sense of obligation

Restless Tigress

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I’m restless
I want something to sink my teeth into
grapple with
gnaw on
savour
work and re-work
explore every subtle taste and nuance
and do it again
until I’ve drained it dry
left my mark
learned all that I can
and am fully nourished

But everything that is available to me
all that I try biting into
turns to dust in my mouth
disintegrates
leaving me agitated
discontented
and wondering if there is something wrong with me
for not being satisfied with what I have
or if maybe I’m looking in the wrong places
or perhaps this is a time of famine
and there is simply no food to be had

Tossed About

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A wish is made
a breath is blown
and like dandelion seeds
we are tossed about invisible currents
of neurochemicals
hormones
changes in barometric pressure
sunlight and moonlight
alongside people who can spin us around
without a moment’s notice

Will we remember the wish
the initial burst of inspiration
Will we root and transform
and metamorphose enough to launch new dreams
Or will we keep drifting
captive passengers flung by breezes
but still beholding wonders
we had never imagined