Choose Yourself Again Part 1 One day I woke up singing a song I didn't know.
Saying a prayer I'd never prayed.
Holding seeds I'd never sown.
Yet the lyrics rolled off my lips like love.
Like my mother tongue.
Like the first language I'd ever known.
And it was all so strange because it was like a shadow in the sunlight.
Or like having two left feet.
Maybe the ancestors taught me something in my dreams,
I thought.
Because my voice wasn't mine.
I felt unfamiliar to myself.
My heart was heavy with a new type of wisdom.
The wisdom of women who chose themselves long before we knew how to call it by name.
And it was all so strange.
Commit to yourself,
I hummed.
A mantra slipping from my lips like honey from a spoon.
Slow,
Heavy,
Impatient on its descent.
Commit to the softness and sacred work of your joy.
It is your birthright to hold yourself.
To cradle who you've always wanted to be.
You are worthy of your own protection,
Even in the face of your own rejection.
Stop looking away,
I said.
Learn to take your own self by the hand.
You aren't out of reach anymore.
Your healing is the rebellion.
Your joy is the freedom song.
You deserve every piece of liberation that you ache for.
What you're worth is no longer up for debate,
I sang.
Carve your way out of your old ways.
Who you used to be is no longer a haven or a home.
Stand in the sunlight of your own becoming,
Where shadows dissolve and your truth remains.
Hold every ache tenderly,
But don't let it anchor you.
Sow the seeds you hold.
Walk forward,
One audacious step,
Then another,
Then another,
Then another.
This is the season of your blooming.
This is the season you claim as your own.
May it be so.
And may it always be.
One day I woke up singing a song I didn't know,
Saying a prayer I'd never prayed,
Holding seeds I'd never sown.
Yet the lyrics rolled off my lips like love,
Like my mother tongue,
Like the first language I'd ever known.
And it was all so strange to choose myself yet again.