My promise to Love

As I’m watching events unfolding in the US, I feel the urge to do something, as a British woman, to contribute, positively. I feel, at times, helpless as to what my contribution might be.

A little while ago I wrote a poem. It came to me as a response to what I see is happening, globally, in terms of the dawn of something good that is coming into being… a world where healthy feminine and masculine energies live together and work together, for the good of ALL.

My poem is my prayer to the divine, feminine and masculine, my apology for my past unconscious contribution to all that keeps us trapped in unhealthy ways of being, and, it is my promise to Love.

This is my poem.

Are you willing to walk beside me into the fire
Are you willing to hold me as I burn
As the flames take hold
Are you willing to be my witness as I lay all of me at your feet
Can you bear to rest loving eyes upon me as I reveal every last part of me

Will you gently hold me as I tell you about how I despise us
How your compliance, my compliance, in our enslavement, disgusts me
How I can’t bear to see your pathetic unaware desperate attempts to be loved and accepted, desired and wanted
They remind me, too much, of my own feeble attempts to please, to be good enough
My unaware manipulation, of you, that you would protect me
My unaware selling myself, so that you would keep me safe
So that I inspired your strength, so that I could bask in my weakness

It is time dear warrior, within and without
That I stand on my own trembling legs, and find the strength that I carry within me
It is time that I own my fears and cowardice
That I claim the fire in my belly and learn how to wield it’s power
I will not rely on you for my salvation, my home coming
It is not your burden to carry
I am sorry I have expected that you would

I give you back your power too, as I claim my own
I am ready dear one, for my masks, all of them, to fall
I am ready to bear my naked truth, to all of creation
I am ready to offer the gifts that I have been hiding
In service of all that is unfolding, for love, and for truth




It is not always a loud and showy affair
Often, it is a quiet truth
Spoken, tentatively, in the night
It is the patient refusal, to numb out
Or deny, those sharp or heavy pains, in your heart
Sometimes, it is the bravest act
To speak up, purely, for the rightness, of speaking out
No assurances of what will follow
To stand, unwaveringly, in truth