THE ARROWS OF MY SOUL

I am cleansing

my field of debris,

and my rattling bones

structured from fear.

Those bones,

built of a mineral matrix

with someone else’s signature…

I will rebuild them,

after I’ve flushed the
cells of my memories.

My mind,

it likes to tell stories,

even if they were written

in the attic of old.

Does your mind do that?

And does your heart remember,

like mine does,

an ancient thread of love

that ties and binds us

to that which is purely true?

That invisible knowing,

it arises from the infinite,

seemingly empty space

contained within my womb, and

from the center of my belly.

I feel what hits the target,

or misses it.

I want to clear the field

so I can shoot the arrows of my soul

with no obstructions,

and hit the center, every time.

Bullseye.