Spirit Child

I think the greatest gift my mother gave me was to not see me
To not project her own dogma
Or societal norms onto me

Nameless, invisable, she allowed me to flounder or flourish as my spirit explored the world

I was allowed to be fluid
Not defined and shackled by some DSM label
Not burdened by a diagnosis--
Or a check mark in a special box

Mom believed in self-fulfilling prophecy
So she kept her mouth shut
And she had very little respect for white society
So she wasn't placing her babies in their hands
Years later I can look back and ask hmmm?
Were we neglected? Abused?
On the spectrum?
However, I never felt unloved
Or unprotected
And really enjoyed being a spirit child--
Testing my wings against the elements
Ah, freedom

My spirit did build a weak social ego
It served me well for a number of years
Through school and career
But being a spirit child
The mask couldn't last forever

Later, awakening to my true self
Was probably easier for me than most
With a strong spirit, weak ego
I had fewer veils to remove

Oh sure I can find snippets of me
In some psych textbook--big deal
Ego is always looking
For a new cloak to glom onto
While spirit
Quietly and consistently
Waters the flowers.

bjbeyers 2021

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