The Suits Sewn to my Skin.

I can feel my whole being integrating

my layers being pulled away

leaving me to finally see the depths of my sadness,

the dis-ease in my body,

the suits I've sewed to my skin,

keeping me in the warmth for so long

but without feeling

without seeing

she has been stuck within the dark

spaces that were built for me

the cold

the shackles they tightly welded to my wrists

in the name of love

born from the shackles

it felt like home

But I couldn't speak

I couldn't move

I couldn't feel

I couldn't be

an empty shell

my dreams,

my pleasure,

my gifts,

my memories,

my connections,

myself…

all pushed down

deep deep deep

into the earth

but I can feel the shape of her parts

beneath me

they pushed their way through the holes

in my suit

freed the blockages in my voice

grew tall, shedding light

on my masks

one at a time

they are melting away

the work is a journey

life long

I have been seen naked

held as I delved into my ocean

honoured for the power of my sadness

the sacred rage

that was always a risk to express

my wild self is being heard

my shadow unconditionally loved

led back home to the spaces inside of me

she has been waiting

this whole time

the little girl inside of me

waiting for me to hold her

to see her

to be with her

while we learn to speak the truths inside

while we hear our song once again

as we step into the feeling body

unearthing safety in the here and now

while we express all that is human

I promise

I’ll be your sister

your brother

your muse

your home

your space holder

until we’re no longer led

by where we came from

but who we are

© Words by Bonnie Knapton / Primal Womben Poetry

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