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for
wholeness
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Personal Sharings / Healing Fragmentation
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MotherHome
MotherHome
The Little Maybe
pct
10/17/01
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He promises nothing.
He guarantees nothing.
He speaks no hollow words of apology.
   He merely waits.

When I am cold or fearful or doubting,
   he holds very still,
   he waits,
   he suffers.
   I feel his self-hate radiating off him like heat.
   He wants to run away.
       But he doesn't.

When I scorn and hate,
   he recoils,
   he hurts,
   he wants to run away.
      But he doesn't.

He disguises himself as
   lowly,
   humble,
   grimy,
     harmless.
He would have me believe he is only a servant here.

But sometimes...
   Sometimes he shines.

Through the corners of his eyes,
   a tiny light shines through,
   when he doesn't know I'm looking
      and the mask is fallen away.
And then I know who he is.

And I know
I think I know
I begin to know
   the great, quiet love
      behind his deception.

I let him go on
thinking I don't know.

I watch him from the corner of my eyes.
I carefully send out tendrils.
   I want to run away.

      But I won't.


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