Surrender

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Surrender

Release the knotted, dysmorphic ties to ego’s past

Those stories were written by another so long ago

Let them tend to their dark seeds, they were never ours to sow

Experience and light

This is how true love is grown

Hold your values in open hands

Extend the only thing you will ever own

Your heart

Surrender

Your intuition knows

~Alisa Hutton

Continuum

trust

Longing for placid waters that lap the sound of what my heart has spoken

Sitting on my beach I trust in my warmth

Just as where the river meets the ocean

Strong currents and individual temperatures must navigate alone as they try to merge whole

All part of nature, no persons place to judge or control

Where is the line between who we were and who we are?

Is it ever a line or rather a continuum, an evolution of sorts?

A weaving of a contextual story that perhaps only I should know?

Observers with opinion can consume needed breath, interfering with flow

Yesterday I retreated to an old shore

Only to be reminded

I don’t live there anymore

~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

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