The space where I am a hero.
I am my own savior.
I am the knight in shining armor.
I am free.
I am strong.
I am bold, courageous, daring, and brilliant.
For in it, in that space, I cannot be contained.
In that space lies my most powerful self.
The parts of me that I know are limitless.
The parts of me that I know are gorgeous.
The parts of me that I know are hideous.
And then that insidious disease of self-doubt takes me away from that hero space.
And I can only focus on the parts that I don’t want to see.
The parts that I don’t want to feel.
And so I fill and fill and fill, with messages and messaging.
Both digital and subliminal.
With food, with drink, with things, with thoughts,
And with stuff and with stuff and with stuff.
Until I am stuffed, with no more space.
No more room for self in spite of self.
Heroless, yet gluttonously ego filled.
In the cluttered mess of my mind, I’ve kidnapped my own spirit.
If only I had the will, to not clutter my own hero space.
I would transform, from captive to captivating.
Oh the willing spirt, but the weak flesh.
Is it just a curse passed down from fathers to sons?
Discipline weighing ounces,
regret weighing tons.
I refuse to look back and say “what if” even once.
So I get out of the way.
Look my truth in the eye.
In my moment of reckoning, I sit with what’s inside.
Every part of me.
I listen with peace, stillness, and quiet.
As the clutter subsides.
I go through in order to get to.
Where I am clear.
I am light.
Reclaiming my rightful kingdom.
Reclaiming my rightful place.
I once again behold my own power,
that lies within my own hero space.