Pure Potentia

I lost me when I fell through the spaces between words

When I fell into the cauldron of pure potentia—where all is possible

I lost the limited notion I had of myself

I lost woman, mother, sister, nurse, artist, healer, friend, lover

And all the other labels I wore for awhile

And it was painful, and I did grieve

As my too tight skin had to be shed

As my too small vessel shattered into a million pieces

To make room for that which cannot be contained

And I tried to recreate myself but the masks wouldn’t stick

And I was left with an invisible face

And a container that holds only you.

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Retired RN/Women's Advocate. Poet, artist, nature lover, seeker NW EU, Spain, Native Am, Scotland View all posts by barb j beyers