Maybe my stories
can free you from yours.
Since my small eyes could open, I have been able to see worlds inside people—stories folding in on the body of a being, like heavy pages of a book. Dust, shadow, darkness layered on top of the light. I see truths untold and pain unnamed. Wounds that festered and formed hard scars.
Now wielding a pen, I pull out the stories of each of us. My secret world is very much the same as yours. What is hidden in me is hidden in you. Whatever I pull from my own tangled knots will free you from yours. Together we peel away the clay that has hardened us, and we are returned to each other, free and in joy at finally allowing ourselves to be seen.
We—together—unlock the stories that were never meant to stay frozen in you or me. The stories never meant to be kept alive so long in the dark corridors of ourselves.
We are not meant to be lost behind invisible things. We can not find the truth until we dare to admit we have been hidden. We do not have to be haunted, we can live an open and available life if we so choose.
She decided after waking
from what felt like years of sleep,
that she would live forevermore
to all that came to be in front of her.
She decided that living awake
was a choice,
and in that moment she became free.
And in that moment
she chose to be the beam of light
that reaches toward all other life,
to be the beam that assists the earth
in breathing and loving