Limp and lifeless

I’ll pretend to be.

Hold me up

My head will drop

Until you pick it up.

It’ll be work to keep life

Out of my eyes.

We’ll put on this show

How good a puppet can I be?

Flexible, and lose

As if my limbs are weightless

I wait for your touch to

Activate my performance.

We’ll paint my face and dress me up

Till I become a doll

Slumped on stage

Waiting for the puppet master

To orchestrate the act.

Every move comes from you

Through me for all the world to see.



There is a moment when I realize that in some ways I am just the puppet and my soul is at the wheel. That my soul directs what this body does, and it would behoove me to open up to that instead of fight against it. In other words… listen to my heart!  But this poem speaks to more than just my soul as the one bringing me to life. It actually simultaneously talks about my waiting for that person who can bring me to life in ways I haven’t yet experienced.

What is your soul telling you??


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