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Personal Sharings / Healing Fragmentation

The Mother's Call

I want to be heard. I thought my heart would break with the strain of holding it all in, and perhaps it did. But I survived and now I heal... am healing.

Parts of myself I will reclaim for my Self. That which has gone forth, split off from myself - that which lives in small tortured shells, longing for comfort and release -- I reclaim and call you to me. Come home, come within and be whole.

Each has its tale to tell. Each has a spark of its own and each followed its own path, searching for an opening through which to shine.

Each shall now be heard, acknowledged, comforted, and brought within the light.

Years of judgement lie heavily on us all. I call to you now, my many splintered selves.


Mom Come to me, be with me. Help me, heal with me.

Let my essence mingle with yours and flow together like honey slowly mixing and joining. Let love grow between us, understanding blossom, healing. The meeting of friends, sisters, helpmates, self. Interlocking pieces of a puzzle, we can complete eachother. Become whole. I ache for you, I long for you, I miss you, I need you.

Come home, blossom and thorn, root and leaf, hidden core and outer shell. Come home slowly, meet eachother on your journeys and heal together. Find your love, find love reflected in each otherís eyes. Travel alone, and then in twos and threes and then more and more, swelling your togetherness.

Be singleminded in this.

We are the lifeblood of this living. We are the essential juice of this fruit. Hearts thrumming and eyes streaming we will find joy, we will know peace. Not the peace of death nor the peace of endless calm, but the peace of living and fullness and wholeness and self.

you fear rejection. So do I
you fear judments. So do I
you judge and hate. So do I
you long for acceptance and love. So do I
you fear losing yourself. So do I

Far from that, so far from there lies the truth. We stand together as equals, as sisters, as partners. Each of us carries a piece of the wisdom and power. Feel it surge and know that it is but a small part of the power possible. Together we . . . move the very bowels of the earth. Standing together, nevermore trembling in fear, nevermore to hide or cower, nevermore. No one of us can say nay alone and hold with any length or strength.

Can this story be told? These many lost selves so broken and lost and yet, not forgotten. We are tied, connected, drawn to eachother.

I ask this not for the world, not for the saving of the world, but for the salvation and wholeness of self, for the healing of the black open pits of self.

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