At Home with Self

The fog soupy, implying unawareness.
I call out, Can you verify my heading?

A generous bearing I desperately seek,
a heading once grasped, now loosed.

I stumble, I fall
in the vaporous air
I hear a call.

Yet again I step
sightlessly forward I hope.
Why do I step
disengaged from the rope?

The call I hear
not a great distance
but oddly very near.

And again I step
confidently forward I know.
For now I step
regenerated by the flow.

The fog breaks, revealing consciousness,
I call out, echoing back is my purpose.

A generous bearing held all along,
a secure home accepted, now freed.

−J. Brunson

Poem Grounded from Skillfully Generous – A New Confidence

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