We left our masks at the door —
Masks of norms, masks of respectability,
Each mask stamped from one of several molds
So each of us seemed one of many
We left our cloaks at the door —
Cloaks that hid
our light-charged ascent,
our streaming brilliance,
our quick-electric connecting essence
And we abandoned all our static stories —
Histories that marked our limits,
all the tags, the terms, the titles
all that would excuse, explain
why we were so hemmed in
And all the habits,
all the ways we framed ourselves
(and had been framed)
all the things we named ourselves
(or how we’d been misnamed)
everything we had condemned,
self-condemnation, too —
We left all that behind
when we went through.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 18, 2014
Oh yes, yes. Wendy you write such truths day after day…intuitive, wise, worldly, heartfelt… from.a very big, open heart that we can all understand and vibrate with. And with the warmth of that love, I say…..THANK YOU.
Thank you!
Wendy, just for my information, where do my comments go? Some secret, secluded place, beyond that Garden Door? I hope so.
Now that you have found this place to write them, they go right here!