A soft light streaming through an open window, a hard knock at the door, a book read at the right time, and she suddenly feels something more.
The signs they are everywhere and no where at all for the woman who is wandering and is starting to understand that there is more.
Timing is everything, it has to be right, she has to be ready to give up the fight.
To soften to the struggle and be open to change, she has to be willing to see that the path is so strange, she'll need fresh eyes, and a stubborn heart for the the women who is wandering is fighting for her art.
As she uncovers what she can't yet put into words, let her be, for the person who doesn't feel it, will not see, nor believe, for this path is quite magical, yet treacherous at times, she'll be sent off course, round in circles and even be derailed at times.
But the woman who is wandering is not lost, she seeks, she knows that it's out there, she knows it's not far, let her be whilst she finds it, strips naked and cries, because out there in the dessert there is nothing but tormenting flies.
Let her be now, she is messy, she is not sure and she is afraid, the unbecoming of self is not planned it is made, made of steps taken in faith, one at a time that lead her to a place she can no longer hide.
In this place she is fragile, vulnerable, raw, stripped to the bone, she is there now, let her be whilst she quietly navigates the unknown.
For the decision to keep treading, turn left or turn right, is one that must be made when the world is quiet, as quiet as the dead of night.
This is not an illusion, a fairytale of castles built in the sky, nor is it a dream for passing time by, this is life, this is her life, this is her telling her soul, 'It's ok to speak freely now, we are now whole".
So let her be whilst she gets comfortable with her new voice.
The voice that has been whispering all these long days and nights. That whisper has now turned into a roar, for the wild woman that has been wandering has now stopped banging on her door.
The door has been flung open, clothing stripped off, she takes a deep breath, summons the wild woman within and finally lets out that roar.
The roar that let's the world know, she is here and she understands, that the world as she knew it no longer stands. She has shaken it's foundations, she has rocked the boat, she has walked the hot sands and taken many a note. She now knows what she is here for and she won't be stopped.
For this fragile woman who wanders made it to hell and now she is back. Don't underestimate her, don't judge and don't compare, for the woman that has found her wild will not easily scare.
Let her be whilst she settles into this new form, she is like a butterfly emerging, delicate and brave, let her spread her wings, let her find her voice, let her find her courage, let her learn to fly. Let her find her way, let her breath once more, let her dance amongst the flowers, let her feel free, just let her be.
The woman that has found her wild, cannot be tamed, nor dampened, nor swayed, she knows in her heart that she took the right path, that the journey was for her, that the journey was to show her the way home and not merely to cause her to roam.
Let her be now, she is happy, she is free, she is herself at last, she is whole, she is one, she is wild and vast, let her be, let her roam, let her soar, let her dance, for this wild woman is you, let her come home, give her a chance.