Photo by Jonathan Borba on

Limping, exhausted, overwhelmed

I arrive at your door


I’ve stayed away from this portal

As for so many years

Over and over

When it opens,

It hurts.

This door of “healing”

Systemic scientifically proven

Cold lenses full of

Twisting realities


Preconceived notions

Tales of resistance and



I say

A word.

I’ve been trying to find my way out here


Amongst the wind

Amongst the death

Amongst the hopelessess, terror and fear

Amongst this collective self-destruction

I’ve been trying

Trying to see myself anew

Trying to see this world anew

Trying to hold hope, shining

That really, there’s something sacred going on

That really, with faith, we can make magic

That really, these wounds are teachers

Showing us the way home

If we could listen.

If we could listen.

I’ve been grateful

I’ve been in surrender

I’ve adapted

To the incredibly tiny trauma world

That keeps me, and perhaps you, safe.

But now the nightmares

Now the pain

Now the plummeting evidence of lifeforce

Declining earth within me

Stares back, gaping.

Now, body revolting

Now, soul refusing

This cage, ancestrally repeating.

I know what will help me

The vastness, potential of deep soma, holding

Facing terror with arms around me

But lacking privilege

I turn to the only source I can afford



This time it will be different.

I pray to the invisible potentials

To show me something different

To open me to something new

To help me stretch beyond my assumptions

Of what I will be met with.

I show up at your door

Limping, exhausted, overwhelmed

Frustrated at my own failed heartful attempts

Frustrated that the spiral keeps spinning

That my mind keeps collapsing

Frustrated that I’m here, again.


The door opens

You stand there

And instead of holding

Instead of asking

Instead of listening

Once again

You hold out your list

And begin to remind me

Of the mistake you see me as

Of all of my failures

Of what I should have done

Could have done

Were I really “ready.”

My mouth opens

My voice tries to speak

My fires try to rise, defending

This wounded one, returning

But blankness prevails

Although simmering beneath

Silence prevails

All I can hear is the next item

On your system-generated list

My hand retreats

From its hopeful opening

Back into my chest

Curled inward.

At least this time

My frozenness thaws

So I can see

So I can see your heart, broken

Your wildness, shackled

Your soul, grieving

So I can see,

And finally walk away.


Away from knocking,

I step out of the stream of your misery

And back into my own Love



2 thoughts on “Knocking

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