The Naked Truth

Oust the tainted words designed
to hold us in thrall.
By my reckoning—
another way to confine
weigh my worth (small)—
too many to count.
There is this other.
I’m either like my father
or my mother
good or bad,
happy or sad,
ashamed or mad.
I can’t surmount
instructed to ignore
who I am, this complex whole
the synthesis rising, the door
from that love connection
no one controls.

We’re told we can’t have both,
we’re stuck. We must choose
left or right, never to meet
two arms, two legs,
two hands, two feet
no traction
spinning in the muck.

Time looms, we feel
we must hurry
toward what is real,
more perfect than this
uncomfortable now,
we aren’t taught how
the four-chambered heart
links us deep into


we start
tingling energy spirals
grounding into base
primal the earth, the sun
reaching through me
for the life-giving kiss
duality undone.

I hold what I find
difficult this morning
pulled by color and light
from the house into dawn,
spilling all around
brilliant bursts
subtle glowing
held in all,
vastness celebrating
liberating yes, and.

Inspired by: Oust, Either, Reckoning and Naked. And by this glorious morning as (above) the moon surprised me when I was out taking photos of this sunrise (below).



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Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

4 thoughts on “The Naked Truth”

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