Excavation Begins

Entering the temple, at first, is daunting--
Cobwebs tangled,
Uncertainty heavy,
Darkness wears me.

There is no definite path, only the trust of my palms
Pushing into the great bulk of that door,
Hinges screaming my name,
Wondering why it has taken this long.

Finally here, inside is safe and warm.
Walls, floor, ceiling built strong by the hands of ancients
And I know that this space is sacred, divine, wise.
As it has always been.
As I have always been.
As I am.

The picture above is a snippet from one of my art journal pages. I used paint, magazine scraps, and matte medium. 
I wrote this poem in honor of how I view (or how I would like to view) my body. I hope you enjoy it. 

It's time to...

Poem #1

It's time to peel the layers from this over-ripened fruit.

It's black and blue with bruises and I want to
throw it away; forget about what lies beneath its succulent endeavor.

And--

I see the dense box built up around my heart cavity.
The mural painted deep inside its walls prophetic,
speaking in tongues I can't yet understand
about finding the way out.

Either way--

The path of this sacred ground my feet have already touched.
I have eaten of the fruit.
I have picked the lock on this box.

Now--

I throw it all into the sea
to the places the sun can't reach.

So this pilgrimage can
finally begin.

The picture above is made on a 4" x 2-1/2" piece of card stock. I used words and an image that were cut from an old issue of Yoga Journal Magazine (explains the glare, sorry). It was quickly and easily collaged. I have made of number of these cards. Some I display in my home to remind me of what I want to focus on in my life. Some I have given to friends--everyone I have given one to seems to love it, appreciate that I made it by hand, and one friend even put it in a frame for her bedside. I like to remind myself that it's never too late to face my fears and that I can BEGIN anytime I want. In fact, this moment seems just right for me...what about you?