Mine For The Taking

I learned to give myself away in a million different ways. 

Slowly, with a smile and a charming quip, 

making them believe it all came naturally. 

I learned to smile when I wanted to frown, 

to charm when I wanted to hide, 

to apologize when I didn’t feel 

I did anything wrong. 

To do what was expected 

and desired by other people, 

rather than what I wanted to do. 

To ignore the whispers of my own heart, 

and to lift up the egos of others. 

To act as if I wanted nothing more 

than to follow the whims of others, 

to make other people feel better, 

and to shine an approving light on the machinations of men, 

while insisting I had nothing, 

needed nothing, 

wanted nothing for myself. 

I learned that I was available for the taking. 

A giving tree, with limbs that were only there to serve the needs of others. 

Until the day I decided I was not going to participate in the taking anymore, 

and I began to water my own roots instead, thirsty roots that drank in the water greedily

and then demanded more. 

I didn't know I was dying from thirst until I got that first sip of water, 

I only knew that I could no longer pretend 

that I was quenched by giving 

my life's nectar away.

Instead I allowed myself to stand in the nourishing drizzle

and let it soak into my being and begin to nourish my roots. 

This was a start, and for a while I learned to make do with just a little bit of care,

just a little bit of listening to my own inner callings. 

But now? 

Now I want to stand in the pouring rain

and get drenched in its restorative waters. 

I want to open my mouth 

and allow it to pour down my throat, 

soak into my hair, and drip off my fingers. 

I want to dance in it, roll around in it, 

bathe in it up to my neck, 

to watch my skin get pruney from taking in 

so much of my own abundance. 

I want it to fill me up until you have to back away

from the power overflowing my cup.

 Only then will I lick my lips 

and declare myself satisfied.