The Altar Of My Spirit

This is where I come

To meet my naked self

No masks

No roles

No fancy robes

I place my hand on my heart 

And listen to the truth of who I am 

At the altar of my Spirit

There is no striving

Only softening

And opening

The willingness 

To sit with what is still unfinished 

To bow to the parts

I’ve tried to hide

The altar of my Spirit is not built of stone 

But of presence 

Where I return to the wholeness of myself 

Tanya Cameron