Still Journey
I pray for serenity
This must be serenity in a way I've yet to know the birds sing and fly instinctual know of this land this Earth this song and flight for many a' moons I enthralled in blight ways and days come and gone on a journey never win just allow find your kin your way your wish upon a star, darling, and I'll never be yours I'll rest and test these still days of peace.
I find myself praying for serenity these days. I pray to be able to receive it, to surrender to it, to have the courage to open to it and the willingness to be serene.
In the sacred space of therapy, I learned that when you grow up in chaos, it becomes your home. Trauma and dysfunction carve their way into your normal, making hardship the comfortable, familiar landscape of your soul. Dis-ease feels right because it’s the constant companion you’ve always known.
What a terrible truth this is.
Yet, it's a truth I’ve summoned the courage to face. Throughout my healing journey, I’ve slowly and steadily taken steps away from this reality. Though it may be familiar, pain is not where I want to dwell.
I want love. I want safety.
When I began to feel these blessings regularly in my life, I felt a discomfort—not because they were wrong, but because they were unfamiliar. And that is where prayer and practice became my sanctuary.
