I hear voices, love voices,
telling me who to love
and how to love.

When I listen with my heart,
I hear anguish, a steady stream.
My heart urges me to reach out
to touch,
to hug,
to hold,
to love.
My gut tells me I will be swallowed up
by a bottomless pit of need.
My mind tells me it is time to move on.
My Higher Self hears and walks away,
but lets my heart weep.

I hear voices.
All my life I have heard voices.
They tell me to get up and do something
that will make a difference for someone:

to live another day,
another chance to be,
another chance to find themselves,
a secure shelter amidst a storm of chaos.

So I sit here at five in the morning.
I listen for that quiet voice
that comes from deep within.
It gives me words to share,
words that can heal,
words that show a way
to the place of sanity,
that silent sanctuary
where we can find rest and peace,
that silent sanctuary
where we can learn to love ourselves
and know that this life is indeed precious.