Seeking permission to shed a role
I somehow ended up with, despite it all.
Yearning for a sign from this life or beyond
Telling me I can and must and will in time
Courageously peel the mask, the scars and the skin
Away in favor of a splendid metamorphosis.
But perhaps the permission must come from within
If I listen close to the voice of my intuition
The one imprinted on every fiber of my core –
Not the voice of my mother, lover, or friend
But rather that of the woman I have become,
True to herself, fully, honestly, even brutally.
A writer once called out to her sisters near and far:
“To write is to try to understand…to repeat the unrepeatable,
to write is also to bless a life that has not been blessed.”
And I say: you draw, she acts, he dances, I write; together we shall sing:
I give myself permission to heed my calling and find true beauty,
Dedicating this one life of mine to the joy of being free.
(Inspired from an African folk tale as told by Sara DeBeer)