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Here is an ancillary blog post to the theme of this poem.

I Want to Tell You

I want to tell you

that you’ve arrived.

The darkness is done.

The day has come.

All your dreams are manifesting

All your seeds of joy are

ready for harvesting.

I want to tell you

that every shredding pain and

terrifying trauma was worth it

that you are special for it,

chosen to deliver all those whom you love to

honeysuckle, sweet liberation.

I want to tell you

that the twisted birth canal of the mother wound has been

straightened,

the fractured father pain made molten,

reformed.

The ancestral and cultural distortions

reckoned with, reoriented, and righted.

Instead…

Instead, I must tell you

that your brain has not yet endured

a quarter of the aches of

rewiring pain

to clarity;

your heart has not arrested in

cardiac frustration from the thousandth

deceitful arrow plucked from its tender ventricles;

your bones have not cracked and

the venom marrow not yet been

sucked clean.

I must tell you that

the expected congregations of celebrations are

crickets

if not total silence.

The deep dark of social malaise

and disease still spreads.

The rain of illusion still pours into your veins from a culture lost

in the pitch black of

suffering sleep.

And more.

There is so much more I MUST

tell you

so that a freeing dawn lightens your

life,

your load.

Buckle down.

Bear the next grief, the next ton of sorrow.

Drive through the resistance to your liberation

and the false prospects of a golden age.

Do this

so that I can tell you one day

You have arrived.

The darkness is done.

The day has come.

Author

I'm a spiritual teacher who helps people find freedom from suffering.

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