Wuk Wuk

I wake and the rope is still there

Tightens in my rounded belly

Little fisherman pull harshly

Rough Seas ahead

The basil is dying on the windowsill

The flowers wilted in the garden

Everywhere I go I see you

My punishment from God above

Wuk Wuk visited this morning

Watched me get the shopping from the car

He didn’t fly this time he just looked at me

My cheeks wet again

I am, I am, I am

Perhaps the biggest tragedy of our lives is that freedom is possible, yet we can pass our years trapped in the same old patterns…We may want to love other people without holding back, to feel authentic, to breathe in the beauty around us, to dance and sing. Yet each day we listen to inner voices that keep our life small.” ― Tara Brach

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