Returning to My Ways

1.

Outside, in the newborn pink of daybreak,
By the still waters, I pray for resurrection.
It is the moment of good morning--
A new day rising up. Light sings upon all.

2.
My old self lifts her head as she hears my psalm.
She warms herself with the sunlight--
Eyes slow to open after a long sleep.
She slips through the reeds, finding the shedding rock--
Scraping belly along, leaving the old skin behind.

3.
I am the daughter of women who tended the land.
I am the daughter of women who walked strong.
I am the daughter of women who sang their prayers--
Who gentled horses, grew crops, sold baskets and quilts,
Walked into the woods to find medicine to heal spirit fevers.

I am the daughter of a mother who forgot our ways.
I am the daughter of a mother who let go of her power.
I am the daughter of a mother who twisted her mind til it broke.
I am the daughter of a mother who teaches me the soul shines through.

4.
I am the woman who closed herself down so she wouldn't fall apart more.
I am the woman who broke anyway. I am the woman who holds her own hand now.
I am the woman who humbles herself in prayer. I am the woman who still loves deeply.
I am the woman who finds compassion beautiful and faith endless.

And now, I turn and shed these years of suffering.
In this new day I resurrect.

I sit and listen. I accept. I stand and go forward--knowing...
I am the worthy daughter of myself. I am a woman full of hope.