In my travels along the
          road,
of my own self-discovery,
I've found all the signs,
merely lead to my own
inner rooms of my
           mind.
Where I was sure I would
           find,
horror upon horror!
Instead, each discovery
became a hidden treasure.

This old attic was filled
with old messages needing
           new truths.
I began with the light of
           grace,
to see the truly spiritual
           being I am.

There in a dusty corner,
a discarded bear.
Her smile unraveled on
           one side,
threadbare here and there.
           Imperfection
As I gazed at her lopsided
           grin,
the old tape in my head began
           to play;
"be perfect,don't make any
           mistakes".
As the light played across
           her smile,
I saw her whimsical humor,
and felt her gentleness,
           and knew,
she was just as she should be.

A discarded box of old love
           letters.
Written by Dad to Mom;
as they began their dance.
They were romantic and sensual.
Why then his message to me,
that my sensuality was a
           "bad thing"!
His shame - not mine.
Reclaim my womanhood!

There the old records,
the poodle skirt,
the teenage years - lost,
filled with neediness and
            empty of joy.
My doll I loved so.
That little girl who never had
that romance with Dad.
Never learned what "cherished"
            felt like.
"Don't feel anything",
only feel ashamed of the
            feelings.
The truth that I never learned
how to let myself be loved.
All the lies!

Beautiful golden child
always was lovable.
I am my own treasure.
I'll hold you little one,
and romance you now within me.
How much fun you are.
He didn't see.
Couldn't see how clever and
         bright,
and lovely you are.
Never could really feel
the warmth of your hugs,
and see the adoration
         in your eyes.
His loss - so sad.

Play the records, put on the
         poodle skirt,
and dance your dance.
Feel the freedom of being.
That I may at last be my
         own treasure
of my own Truth!