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

Now

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Placed before me, moments

Greeting each with gratitude

Even the uncomfortable and unknown

Inhaling, a note is left to seed

Exhaling, a note is left to seed

Growing the same message; now is joy

My heart is my only home

It is full of sunshine and abundant bloom

My mind simply there to gently remind me to always go back to where I belong

This morning resting in myself

Love called me back home

~Alisa Hutton

My Sunday Home

coffee

A good book

The scent of morning coffee

Silence in my space, a peace I love and know

Meditation with my chest pulled back, reminding me to keep my heart fully open

Clarity of the heart in mindful simplicity

Expanding and contracting my soul, felt deeply in my bones

Breathing in to my core, settled in who and what I feel and know

The sound of the leaves rustling in the breeze and the early morning giggles of my little boy

Sitting in love on Sunday morning

The simple picture of my life and the seeds I have tenderly sown

~Alisa Hutton

My Home

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I have learned

Many will knock on your outer door

Invite in only those of good character

Your soul is your home, not all need to be welcomed to walk on your floor

My table feeds a bounty of goodness and kind but seats a chosen few

My company, my chosen story, only pure hearts bind me whole and new

Lack of values tossed with miss guided intentions always seem to fall disappointingly short

When people arrive with anything less than authentic, relationships are neither genuine nor true

I have learned to sit in quiet in the middle of my night

To feel uncomfortable dark and my effervescent light

In my dustiest times when I hear that metaphorical knock on the door of life

Intuition speaks of who needs to keep walking and comes with strife

I honor my home and yours alike, welcoming in only those who respect space with trusted care

My heart is precious, only love lives there

~Alisa Hutton

Hanging Myself

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My purpose in life is not to fill yours

I didn’t accept an invitation at birth to sit in your empty spaces and listen to you rust and groan

The path you take, yours alone

I did not sign up by simply being born

Swallow the air you breathe, expand and contract with gentle flow or selfish anger as you must

Leave me be while I tend to my own

The discomfort you feel

Keep it off my shoulders and pack it away as you please

I wasn’t put on this Earth to spiritually flat line while being continually cut off at the knees

The house you built is not my home

I have shown up time and again, open and free, full of love

Intentions of hope

Hanging myself

By my own rope

~Alisa Hutton

Now

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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