Does this Poem Know What It Needs?

My spirit calls me home,

Am I listening,

Will I follow?

When my soul weeps, 

tears turn to laughter,

I hold hands with myself

and my soul takes my spirit to

the dance floor as I twirl

into the wholeness of myself.

My shadows peek around corners

cautiously stealing a glimpse of light,

I reject, then provoke, then seduce and invite them

to the parts apart party,

where all the exiled aspects of myself

are welcomed with delight.

God loves a trouble maker.

He made these bodies for play, 

He likes to work with wood,

 he gave us hands.

Works of art,

Works of love, 

It is all the same thing.

Praising the Lord

Is no better

Or worse

Than cursing him.

God doesn’t care. 

He would wish for you to honor 

Your own soul and it’s hungers. 

Nurture your soul 

And 

You feed your spirit. 

Does this poem know what it needs?

Probably not,

But this soul knows it needs 

this poem.

Otter

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