I have been in exile
from my authentic self
I have advanced
retreated, withdrawn
raised my arms in triumph
hid, been revealed
been wounded
and healed
stood up straight
and knocked down
put on masks
and removed them
I feel like a hollow bone
standing on the graves of my ancestors
The Old Ones await my death
©2011 Julian Spalding
This poem for me sings of the return journey home….the process when forms and the persona (masks) and the body recedes and returns to the formless realm where Old Ones await…powerful imagery replete with the powerful journey symbols…