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
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
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
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
