Speak up, a poem

I find myself being quiet to avoid confrontation because my parents were scary when I was small and there was not allowance for our expression. I have fought hard for the healing of my internal system and many parts have come out of hiding. Silenced parts rebelled during mask wearing times and censorship smackdowns on media platforms and started to emerge from the inside out. If the world wanted to encroach from the outside with mandates, then I had to release expression from the inside for emotional freedom.

Being politically correct is often another way the enemy of our spirit, scapegoats those of us who want freedom, true justice that can be tangible. I am not responsible for anyone else’s actions but todays terms don’t adhere to personal responsibility, most are too fragile to grow through difficult conversation. 

I think families are intensified ecosystems of dysfunction that taught outside worldly demands how to isolate us even more because the lack of diplomatic authority shapes suffering built on internal shaming that silences. 

The childhood we lost still has us running amuck to grab onto people for preservation, yet the battle of the mind prevails. We are only as healthy as the grace we use toward our inside critics because then shielding the Self from pain falls away. Seeing someone else’s emotions would draw out our compassion. Understanding every individual has many un-healed parts within, where conflict is really made. 

We are not our thoughts. We are not defined by our mistakes, and neither is the next guy. If we re-parent the little one inside, maybe the world wouldn’t be such a scary place. Maybe we wouldn’t cower when the boss labels our behavior through his fearful part. Maybe we would speak up. But this stint is short on earth and anyone who is willing to let us be different and still love us is a taste of what heaven will be like.