I longed for home
Like an insomniac longs for the oblivion of sleep
That dark place of comfort
Where the absence of thought and worry
Is a blessing
My longing for home was something like that
A place where I could just surrender
Dance around naked
Eat too many lentil chips
And not care at all If I hadn’t washed for days
Or the if the place was a mess
Because in this homely place
The inner critic would be banished
Along with all ideals of perfection
Of getting things right
Of being the strong stoic one
Who would always be there when others needed or called
Today it was such relief to admit to this
And to know that at any time
The entire edifice could crumble
That I could sit amidst the pile of broken pieces
Seeing not something misshapen or destroyed
But something let go of
That needed to be
So long ago
Emerging From The Dark Night 
Sometimes (oftentimes) I read one of your posts and I just lose my breath because the truth of it just astounds me as it pertains to my own life.
Such as what happened when I read this particular passage . . .
“Today it was such relief to admit to this
And to know that at any time
The entire edifice could crumble
That I could sit amidst the pile of broken pieces
Seeing not something misshapen or destroyed
But something let go of
That needed to be”
I am there. Definitely there. Needing to accept that which I am so that I can let go of that piece of me and move from here inside a better me.
The process is humbling.
Peace and harmony,
Marc
LikeLike
Wow it truely is humbling to me that that poem spoke to you so much as well. I wish we could sit down and have big chat about it all. My therapist keeps telling me that all my life I have striven to be perfect rather than be me. I am sick to death of it now. Not that I could ever be perfect but the trying to keep it all together struggle is one I hope I lose soon. ❤ Fond affection to you, Marc. Deborah 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Deborah.
Peace
LikeLike