this is me, inside my heart, my soul cupped in my hands
and lifted high in graceful beauty unto heavenly lands,
this is my spirit, beautiful and yielded in my place
on sacred prayer mat made of love and tears and joy and grace.
but this is that me, seen, encountered, clumsy in this world,
the way i am perceived and felt, the heated judgments hurled,
hard and horned, coarse and dull, imprisoned in my place,
of silence, sorrow, empty house, tears always on my face.
Beautifully written with vivid photos to help the imagery. Great post!
Thank you very much…your words mean a lot.
Reblogged this on Jessica A Bruno (waybeyondfedup).
“…imprisoned in my place,
of silence, sorrow, empty house, tears always on my face.”
In the context of the second stanza, yes.
In the context of Mama (you are in there, Sis), no
Grateful for the clarification ❤
And I for the location you dwell