Tell Me

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When did scarcity roll over you, wilting you timid and fearful?

What darkened childhood tale shadowed your lightness and spirit, giving away your bold?

Who changed you so short that your worth became socially outsourced to the new and unknown?

When the sun rises it reminds us with furious beauty that moments are spectacular. Well thought plans, penned goals and shiny thoughts trivial pursuits of those who will never grow.

The rain that drenched you with indignation, coming unannounced on a summer day? The universes way of tapping you awake to all you never will control.

What happened between the first moments your eyes opened to the universe to where you stand today? Unable to muster the courage to stutter the words your heart desires, I miss you, I love you, please don’t go.

Our heart and our soul intuitively tells us when we are home.

An unspoken settled place is our being, a warmth, a person who undoubtedly many lifetimes we have known.

Tell me, when did scarcity roll over you?

Leaving you all alone.

~Alisa Hutton

Beyond The Veil

beyond

There was a space today between my eyes and your soul

My heart wide open to the sadness that I know you must go

I, simply an observer now watching you dance between two worlds

One I know, the other your true home

You looked at me in your knowing way and told me it was time for you to leave

Joking as we always do, I told you I was going to toss you over my shoulder and we’d make a run for the bar down the road

In that moment time stood still and we laughed like we would any other day

A small treasure of sweetness as I watch you slip away

You closed your eyes, quietly drifting off again to that other place

Smiling, you let out that giggle of yours, your body relaxed in to a warm peace

I knew in that moment such generous love is waiting for you on the other side

When you accept the invitation

I trust you will decide

Holding your hand just one last time

We shared words of love and honored it with grace as we said our final goodbye

Please, take my love and rest your heart as you walk towards your angels in the sky

~Alisa Hutton

Intended Child

intended child

The intended child born of great story

Marital fiction sprinkled with good looks

Welcome to the new age of genetic folklore

Raised in proper and pressed dresses that stand in stiff form

Opinion was taught and told in stern

Dear child do as I say, not as I do

Freedom of thoughts are told to stand in the corner or shown the door

The intended child came as such a disappointment

So full of life

Not part of the familial order

A mind and soul, values and beliefs, something the off spring were never to be shown

The intended child such a shameful face of the perfect lineage

The wax families personal disgrace

A little girl who was supposed to listen because of the nobility of her last name

Perhaps when they decided to step on her spirit

Is slightly more to blame

~Alisa Hutton

He Is

Painted Boat

As a child when the world felt impossible to understand

There he always was

Not one for unnecessary speak but how he loved to tell his good stories

The reason for their start never quite clear but the ending always delivered with loving, insightful touch

Smiling in that knowing way as he does, eyes squinted in the corners

His laugh lines always saying so much

My curiosity as a child, he always seemed to pause so comfortably in the middle of any conversation

Giving every person he engaged deserved thought

At ease with his own mind and soul

Telling our little ears to learn about the ocean tides, when and how they flow

Know when not to be scared but when you feel trouble, work hard for things you love, learn as much as you can, be your own person and no matter what always keep your values in hand

With the most difficult of questions in life there was never any rush

When you asked him in urgency, trying to navigate the heart and its sometimes misdirected ways

His answer was to measure you up with a fishing rod and take you out on the ocean for the day

Silently rocking back and forth in a boat while listening to the lapping waves

He never gave you an answer but you always found your way

He let you be and gave you space, smiling when he was proud

Disappointment wasn’t very often and never harsh or loud

As years went on I came to understand the reason he never directed us or handed us answers in response

He knew the gifts of love and safety, showing us how and where to find our peace

He taught us the answers we seek are always in the calm and quiet

He is my Uncle

I am his forever grateful niece

~Alisa Hutton

Ms. J. Doe

Jane Doe

Today I looked in the eyes of a woman I did not know

Laying quietly across from one another in a hospital corridor

Twice my age, quietly breathing the end of her story

I looked in her eyes and they seemed to mirror my own

I saw fear, sadness and loneliness in my reflection

Hers, the same deep brown as mine and tilted in similar bend

Yet, they were somewhere else

A place I didn’t know, a place that made me uncomfortable

As we laid quietly in our separate but shared space, I thought is this what it is all about?

Do we eventually end up in a corridor alone?

No comfort of love, no familiarity of a life known or lived?

No hand holding ours, no last I love you?

Does our story end with a stranger in a hall, the only comfort our own?

I couldn’t help but feel my life had been deeply scratched for a reason unknown

Something of this was meant to echo

Was it meant to reverberate a space?

Is it meant for me to open or close?

I really don’t know

I hope she could feel that I saw her life beside me and I felt her soul

I have to believe in the end

It is about something more

Than being alone in a corridor

­~Alisa Hutton

I Am

Girl

I was not born to be polite and adapt my being to meet your level of conformity

I was not born to grow my hair, paint my face and shape my body to fit your ideals of beauty

I was not born to speak in a quiet, regulated tone and only utter careful words to fit the walls of your voice

I was not born to gingerly harness my thoughts and curiosity to dance to the structure of your ideas alone

I was not born to walk cautiously or run in fear because your legs are more important than mine

 

I was born kind, strong, fragile and authentic and of so much more

I have no walls or box to fit in to

I fly high above without barriers and on my own

I was born beautiful, look in my eyes and drink my smile if it is me you truly want to know

Age, society and magazine covers define nothing and frame antiquated ideas of long ago

I was born with raging intellect and a thirst to feel, learn and grow

I do not hold hands with those who can see nothing more

You are not welcome to come for dinner, my table is set for those of substance

My food is for us alone

I was born to dance, run and move my soul as it is free

I have no need to puppet myself because I am standing on your perceived floor

 

I am me

I am a woman

Don’t let your preconceived notions of that hit your ass on the way out the door

 

~Alisa Hutton

 

I Will Be Here

promise

Little soul

We arrive in this world as we were meant to be

Open and free

Loved

My eyes rested on tiny, beautiful you and I fell in love for the first time

In that moment I knew, I understood

This was love, it is what we are built to be and do

All of this, is all of you

Such delicate teaching

Your little hand rested in mine

Snap shots of forever

So deeply imprinted in my heart, inhaled and exhaled in every breath no matter the time or space

Your pure being and all the blessings you bring to me

The harshness of life so hard to understand

My heart not always able to make sense of and protect my most precious dreams

If I can’t do this for you, how can I do this for me?

My heart visits the day you were born and how you taught me about love

My faith is kept in that tiny hand I held, knowing no matter what life brings it always lives in you and me

Life will come with hurt, sadness and so much we will fail to understand

So much hard that it can stray you from who you are

For you my little girl, when the times comes

When you need me most

When life has made you feel lost from your true being and authentic self

My promise to you

I will be here to hold your hand

To remind you that the love you were born with is who you are

It is always there, never left and will always burn strong

I hold it in my heart in a precious place that I keep safe and warm

As you taught me the day your were born

It is always love that will set us free

~Alisa Hutton

The Arbutus Tree

arbutus-tree

When I was a little girl there was a tree that grew near me

I recall asking my Mom about why this tree looked so different from al the others near our home

My eyes always drawn to how it would bend in inviting ways, without sharp corners or rigid lines

Its smooth exterior skin exposed from coarse bark

My child wonder could not help but run my tiny hands along its surface

I would sit on my patch of grass looking at this lone tree, admiring its whimsical ways and open nature

It was an Arbutus

As shared by my Mom this one in particular was very special

For the Arbutus usually don’t do well too far from the ocean

This one did though, a lone, strong Arbutus living far from its desired home yet gifting me with its beauty

I would pay extra attention to the Arbutus, proudly telling the tale that it was a very special treat for us have in growing where it did

 

I sat at the ocean edge today admiring an Arbutus

It reminded me of my childhood memory

Filling myself with the salt air I thought of my strong roots and the Arbutus that grew so well even in its less than ideal surroundings

I thought about the beauty in its exposed ways, how it lives in bend and curve, never with rigidity

The salt of the ocean offering it nourishment, healing and growth

Maybe the Arbutus that lived near me would have thrived more so living near the sea

It seeded before my time and flourished long past my childhood

During that time it continued to grow and extend its beauty in its unique way

What made it so special to me was that it managed to do so when so many thought it couldn’t be

So many years later and I think I understand why I came to know

The story of the Arbutus tree

~Alisa Hutton

Now

seed

As the winter air bit at her cheeks in her forest of thoughts

Her heart weighted, indulging in sadness

A past heavy in disappointment

Her future never arriving between blinks

She gave herself permission

You may

Close the gap of your expectations now

Family looks as it feels

Not what was fictionally written

Home is not made of carefully placed cushions or well-appointed rugs

She was not “them”, “she” or “her”

She was “I “

“I” knew happiness was to be felt, not chased

“I” felt love for people, not things

“I” knew time was welth, not income

“I” gave permission

To let “them” be the holder of expectations

“I” will live a beautiful life

~Alisa Hutton

Wonderland

aw

I I sometimes wonder if I read Alice in Wonderland too many times as a child. Perhaps too many rainy days spent outside as a 6 year old? In the quiet looking at the water rushing down the street creating great stories of wild, river adventures in my mind. While all the other kids were playing kick the can in the August heat there I was laying on my back in the grass forming animal shapes in the clouds. Watching neighborhood kids build tree forts while I sat on the cement contently drawing my pictures on scrap pieces of paper with my broken crayons.

Always observing, quietly watching. Not understanding it all but unbendingly curious. When life became noisy, felt unfair or hard I would make my own wonderland. Diving in to my vivid imagination full of color and magic. With a delayed blink I could transport myself to a wonderful place where the flowers grew better, the grass softer and greener, and the sky always bright blue with fluffy white clouds. Rainbows around every corner. Everyone smiled and was full of love in my wonderland. Hearts were so big and full you just had to stop and say hello to them.

With a delayed blink I can still transport myself there. I wonder, was it protective nature or early wisdom. Do we have imagination to make the world feel a little less lonely and harsh? Or maybe we have imagination because we are the people who are supposed to create a more magical world? Maybe we see it so others can believe a better world exist for them too?

Either way, I like my wonderland.

~Alisa Hutton