I Believe

by Samantha Moore

It is my time,
they keep telling me.
For too long, have I kept myself small,
asked for too little,
expected no greatness.

I need only grasp it,
they say.
I am primed and prepped,
washed clean by tears of suffering and joy,
ready to receive.

What hesitation is this,
what fear that holds me back,
one foot mired in muck,
the other swimming freely in the clean, clean
flowing river?

Feet be where they may,
The wind, She whispers to me always,
if I listen,
that I am the goddess, the temple priestess, the healer, the sage,
daughter/mother/crone.

Receive to give, they say
(I thought it went the other way!).
I am the earth beneath me, the sky above.
All love and healing flows through me
and this is my divine right

So I am told.


Journal, Volume 2 Issue 7