Bottom Bed

Here I am.

Feeling I’m at the bottom again.

Can’t get any lower than this bed; where I lay.

Where all the crumbs and dust and debree sink to

Where all the neglect clumps up until I become one of them

And then I find where I belong.

The murky depths where creation calls for me.

Where my voice has been gurgling and drowning in all the things I’ve put between it and me.

And then I fall down only to fall closer to my VOICE.

Calling me home to rest in my bed where I will wake up anew and fresh from all the waters…

Where I escape from… but end up exactly where I run from…

(C) The Voice of the Wounded Soul