A Voice

All my life I’ve felt like I had no voice, like Ariel in “The Little Mermaid” when she traded her voice for legs. Only I don’t remember signing any contract to give mine away. I never felt I had one to begin with. This strange ability yet to be used secretly screamed and screamed to be heard, like a raging stray cat tearing herself apart to find a home she could call her own.

To be homeless, I believe, is also a spiritual concept. When you feel you are homeless in your own body, you search for a home outside yourself. When you are homeless, desperate and starving, you will sleep anywhere and emotionally exploit yourself in the process.

This you do unconsciously. Yes, some part of you realizes you kicked yourself out of your own home to begin with, so you beat yourself up even more for having made a terrible mistake, leaving you with no hope of a home.

This mistake then serves for each and every punishment that ensues. The bigger, the better – and maybe, just maybe, if you hurt yourself enough, you will pay off this strange debt and be free.

Sweetheart, you are home. That was just a bad dream. Don’t worry, you’re safe now, I heard myself say.

Oh thank god!