The Womb of My Mother. {poetry}


Cocooned in the womb of my mother
I hear her desperation for a secure home
as she sobs into a wad of wet toilet paper in the bathroom
I feel her terrified shallow breathing as my father enters the room
I sense her broken heart for bringing a child into her chaotic life
I know her anger is 100 oceans deep as she curses this mistake taking form in her body
I lather my small embryo in her belief of not being good enough to raise a child
I cloak myself in her belief stemmed from unworthiness of healthy love
I blanket my tiny being in her belief of women do not have the right to speak
Not knowing any better, I allow beliefs like these to soak into me
To engulf me
To swallow me
To grow inside of me
And as I grow they puncture deep, despairingly deep into my DNA, into my development
But she is my mother
So in her warm, safe womb I trust her
I do not remember these suitcases of beliefs I have carried with me since birth
But they are ingrained and they are a part of me
I can subconsciously feel them
Nipping at my potential with sharp vampiric teeth
And as I grow and age into a young woman I feel insecure, unworthy, afraid and not good enough
I just want to be liked
I just want to be accepted
But step by guiding step I am called forward
Just one inch of courage every month
Then one inch of courage every week
In a gorgeous dance I start to find my soulful rhythm of ancestral healing
I now see the intricacies of my DNA
Of my mother’s beliefs that have saturated my tiny embryo and cultivated themselves into my own beliefs
I see things a little more clearly now every day
I heal a little bit now every day
And in the once upon a time of housing anger and grief for my mother based in misunderstanding
My grown body is able to hold compassion and slivers of understanding for a pregnant woman with her ancestral limiting beliefs
But it ends with me
And so I break the cycle
It’s not an easy lifetime task
It is the most challenging feat I have ever accomplished in this life
And through the family laughs and the family mockery
Against the hurricane winds of family disbelief and family ignorance
I stand strong like a 100-year-old oak tree and I continue to break unhealthy patterns of my ancestors,
of my grandmother,
of my mother,
of my sister and of me
This is the way of awakening
This is the way of my divine path
This is the way to freedom.


Kelsey Faye is a writer, filmmaker, photographer, traveler and Theta Healing practitioner. One of her life dedications and missions is healing. Her writings are raw, wild and esoterically authentic to her soul as she writes from the heart of her soul. She has an immensely strong passion to empower others, reminding them that they are goddesses and gods in beautifully crafted human bodies, and often writes about re-claiming feminine divinity and soul embodiment. Writing is one of her healing modalities, and she can often be found in the midst of a catastrophic release madly scribbling words down to form her next piece of raw writing. Kelsey currently lives in Alberta, Canada, and will most often be found summiting a mountain range, photographing an alpine glacial lake, traveling and adventuring in new, exotic places or practicing yoga in the grass. Her next adventure is to learn and teach Tantra yoga.


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