When doubt speaks.

When I fall, will I be held?
Or will my body be cast under a wakeless spell?
My Spirit once nimble, now deaf and blind,
a weightless wanting to marry heart with mind.
I pray for what I had lost, just to take me back,
as I fear nothing left, but inadequacy and lack.
When I fall, will I be held?
Or will all the light of my being be expelled?

When I am lost, will I be found?
Or will my body be silenced, my instincts drowned?
My words once steady, now muted and lame,
a deep desire for voice that speaks no shame.
On my knees, I beg for pathos and sight,
I dread the day, that darkness refuses the light.
When I am lost, will I be found?
Or will I be ashamed to reach fair ground?

When I give up, will I be healed?
Or will my body cripple, anxiety her shield?
My mind once assured, now hungry for trust,
a frantic feeding of pleasure, before gathering dust.
Hand to my heart, I summon forgiveness and grace,
Remembering the fire living in me cannot be erased.
I will not give up, and I will be healed,
reclaim my worth and bear witness to what Spirit reveals.

What will come of those moments when we look away,
choosing scarcity to rule our fear-ridden kingdom?
Will we stand up and fight, against our minds that led us astray,
and remember how abundance of thought gives us our freedom?