DIARY OF A HOTEL WIFE
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November 4, 2016
I’ve learned a thing or two about vulnerability of late.
I’ve learned to lean into cliff-diving terror and the mental tumble of judgment.
I’ve cultivated courage by taking a knife to my core,
and bursting blisters of pain.
I’ve had flashbacks of dark madness
sprinkled with moments of immaculate joy
as I lay crumbled on the floor.
Throughout my purge,
in the cyberspace backdrop of my life,
I am held
by a collective
generosity of spirit that knows no bounds.
Weaving in between,
over and around my pain
dance a tender army of wild hearts.
My soul soars as they wildly waltz to the beat of my broken heart.
As my raw meets their wild,
I inhale their limitless love.
My ego relentlessly stabs at my soft spots,
unworthiness and shame.
As ego hijacks my humanity,
I convince myself I am an unwelcome visitor to this tribe
of wild warriors.
As I confront the beast, I am reminded
that my ego exposes my vulnerability
therein lies her sacred gift.
My vulnerability demands my courage.
My courage cuts the ties of my shame and connects me back to my core.
Vulnerability is the cost of my liberation,
and wild is my courage.
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