I walk through my consciousness

Crossing through different terrains

Some part are dry land. ‘Werú’

A wilderness

Others are oceans

So I start at the shore and dive deeper

Discovering hidden parts of myself

Waiting to be seen

To be listened to

My consciousness is a vast place

I could never exhaust it in this lifetime

Even if I tried

But I go in

Again and again

Like a journalist

Recording stories

Sometimes, travelling back in time

To exhume memories

Bringing to light that which is hidden

With my pen,

I give a voice

To the inner child

The teenager

An adult from another lifetime

And allow them to find peace

To quiet down their torment

I walk around and find pockets

Of grief, joy, regret, love, and all manner of things

Like an antique shop

Some things have been stuck there

Frozen in time

Unable to find a way out

So I hold them with love; grief, regret, shame

And walk them through the wilderness

Allowing them passage

To be free

And grow into flowers

And that is my life’s mission

To travel inside

Touch the wounded parts

Heal them

So that they may become

Fertile grounds

For flowers to blossom