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Writer's pictureMartha Ryan

The Journey Home

I tried to use humour

And self annihilation

Studying every path

That would set me free


Stroking the world

By it's ragged edges

Hoping to find

The missing pieces of me


The parts I'd forgotten,

And others I had lost

Separated, by my own damnation

Still learning to pay

The ultimate cost.


Sooner or later,

I would find myself

Between the promise of heaven

And the familiarity of hell.


Exhausted in this battlefield,

Praying for thunder,

Just waiting for the midnight waves

To gently take me under.


There is no respite in this war.

No shelter. No home.

Exposed to every element,

I continue to walk alone.


But what if there was a place

Beneath the shaking ground?

A lonely place that lay silent

Emitting not even a single sound.


A closed door

A buried hatch

Inviting my presence

Through just an open latch


An elemental voice whispers,

She calls me in.

Hesitantly I travel,

Feeling an invitation to unravel.


I breathe in deeply to my lungs,

As I gently turn the key.

Surrendering to what I may find

Through the doorway of me.


It's been a long time

Since I've walked through this door,

But I trust with every exhale,

I'll be held a little more.


Hugged by a force, maternal and wise

I bask in the beauty of being alive.


To experience sensations

From deep within my bones

These aches and subtle twinkles,

Sent warmly from my soul.


To know oneself is to visit

This sacred, silent place.

Stepping blindly in the dark,

I am held by empty space.


Encapsulated by a force,

Absolvent of all time.

I reclaim the love

That is rightfully mine.


An exploration guided

By the depths of my heart

I mend those little pieces

That may have fallen apart.


Each inhale, I expand

To the potential of my being.

Each exhale, captivated

By a love so freeing.


Bravely taking this journey,

I begin to remember

This pool of light emitting

From my own heart centre.


These nuggets of wisdom.

Delicate chunks of gold.

I am reminded of the secrets

That wish to be told.


Some painful and dusty,

Others radiant and clear.

A whisper from my heart declares

"All is welcome here".


So I sit back in the knowledge

That my heart holds the key.

Held bravely by the strength

of my own vulnerability.


Taking respite in this darkness,

Bathing in the great unknown,

I greet myself with open arms,

As I take this journey.


Home.

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