The more I feed my mind with figuring, finding, trying, scrutinizing,
the more I reinforce its mistaken dominance over my body.
Every little thing that soothes my emotional mind only denigrates my emotional body.
Can I unzip the addictions, wants and soulless desires that cling to my flesh-
at one point to warm the frozen child spirit
so it did not need another
or her mother and broken father.
And now she is laced up tight with lies that gouge her tender skin.
She has outgrown their safekeeping.
But to pry away each strand takes a gentle hand, and that hand must be her own.
How can she love everywhere that bleeds?
How can she trust that hand when it was programmed to feed
and fasten her mistaken fate?
I return to the simple graces…
My eyes gazing upon a tree.
Until the reflection returned
shows a perfect child,
flesh scarred with the story of faith.