In the dusty sun of morning you told me once to listen always to that inner, belly-soft part that never lies. My intuition, you said, was strong so my heart expanded, with the unsolicited praise enough to lift me from the arid patch of sunlight in which I sat watching you speak. Consumed with giddiness I did not see the warning in your eyes. This strength is not forever, you said without speaking and unaccustomed to the subtle communications of adults I failed to take your meaning.
What is it, year after year, that robs us of that inner wisdom, that belly-soft strength which is meant to guide us? Why is it that so often, we find ourselves, ten years later, dizzy in damp-fungus smelling rooms, unable to say no?
Home Sweet Home 