In my pain,

I have made a home.

Sometimes, when I don’t know

which way to go...

I come back.

Out of habit,

Out of comfort.

But here I surrender

to the fact

that I am little.

I diminish in the dark.

But do I want that?

I long for the softness

I once held..

The light on my skin

there in a field of flowers.

I remember.

I desire.

I remember.

I perspire.

I do not want this -

This dark filled home.

I do not want to stay here

in this rough world, alone.

I remember how I got there;

To the field of flowers.

It was a soft gentle voice.

And a soft gentle choice.

A soft gentle breath

brought me to that space.

Here in the darkness,

I remember that place.

So I decide in this moment,

I make my choice -

To return to the field of flowers,

with the sun and the warmth.

I am shaking. I tremble.

But here in this moment,

the darkness dismantles.

Black to gray to white,

and a settle touch of yellow -

I feel the hand of love

lift me up

and say Hello.

Here in this place,

my shackles fall off

and I walk free.

I realize that’s all I ever wanted to be.

In the field of flowers,

I give up. I surrender.

I’ve felt this pain for longer than

I ever wanted to bare.

Perhaps here,

my burdens

I can share.

The loving hand twirls me around

and dances with glee.

My eyes open and realize the person dancing is me.

- a poem by Boston Sommer