These are the days when I search for the highest calling
And find only an empty echo,
A longing for the season of renewal,
A time to shed and reveal the new skin grown
Through winter’s chill
A time of letting go of that which has outgrown
My need for its control
How to let go of that which one grew and bore
From one’s own soul?
The imperfect, messy mirror of new life,
New chances to right old wrongs
Yet the winds of change still blow
Clearing away what’s stagnant,
Leaving a fresh, pink, vulnerable skin
Will it have a chance to thicken before it’s scarred again?
And will I be the one to scar it?
The potential suffering is there for the taking
Though I may not make the first notch,
I know a few will bear my name
And I weep, for I can’t stop it
I can’t provide the shelter from myself,
Nor would I want to
This sticky, messy shedding and controlling,
Suffering and releasing is the stuff of life,
The residue of fully living in all
Its glory and defeat
©SpiritLed 2016