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I awoke

And for seemingly no reason,

It was clear:

This body is still alive

Because it has something to offer


This Truth arose from within,

A reminder

Of the once-known wisdom

in every child:

Enter your day

Like you once entered this life—

With a mandate.

We are each a vessel—

A particular tone of

Vibrancy in Life's palette.

A symphonic note, an exotic flavor—

But what turned the curry bland,

What robbed the bizcochito

Of its sweetness?

This body is pregnant

Not only with consciousness,

But also with the pain,

loss, and misunderstanding—

A cadre of ancestors.

They say that patterns continue

Until someone in the line

Is willing to feel them.

I am willing to feel.

I accept my mandate

Of embodying alchemy,

Of transmuting shame,

Of bearing its child—

The tissues of my body hang

Like soaked clothing

Following the storm

That has raged across generations.

Others have sought refuge without,

Rather than within.

But you cannot do the work

Of the crucible

Without facing the fire.

So I will feel.

So our ancestors,

And our children,

Of body and of spirit,

May readily know

Their original

Pristine and placid



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