the word wants to be written
I sit in this place of receiving
a place of my own
home
my own
home
my own
home
my own
place
of divine presence
breathing as if every inhale says love
and every exhale says yes
mirrored reflection
a response of me
eyes meet mine
an exchange of I
constant
although each one is new
rebirth
a special locking of spirit
like I have been waiting for this moment of recognition
to see just who sits on the other side of the mirror
on the other side of me
are these even my words?
asking that question implies a separation
between me
& my spirit
the one that I call home
the one that calls me home
over & over again
with the certain assurance
that I will look up to see
that it is I, the me I have
the me I want
the me I am
the I, I see
the seeing is believing
and the believing is faithfully
mine
