Come ride the carpet with me
on a scribes memory.
Who grew up with curls galore
and little confidence to display them.
Who danced to her own drum
but nobody could hear her music.

Ride the carpet with me
on the coat tails of my own memories.
One where shyness took center stage
and friends were few.
Where challenges plagued and ancient healings occurred to awaken self.

Come Look through the window of my own scribing truth.
Where I toss away old judgments
and let go of those who sleep-walk.
Where I stand tall to share my gifts
knowing I have them.
Where I  found God within without and celebrate the gift of life.