Siren Disappearing

The Siren still sings.

I just don't intend to follow her anymore.

I want to trust that the voice calling me toward the rocky cliffs will fade.

So I plug my ears with beeswax and bind my hands to the mast, determined never again to be pulled toward the Siren’s song.

The Siren that throws my life into chaos.

The Siren that leads me toward loneliness.

The Siren that convinces me I'm free…while quietly taking everything I love.

I want to trust that I can quiet her—so I can keep my peace.

My beeswax isn't wax at all.

It's writing.

It's yoga.

It's boundaries.

It's choosing peace before impulse.

But this battle isn’t won in a few weeks. Trust takes time. It will take patience to believe she is no longer singing her honeyed song.

Victory isn’t impossible.

It simply requires time.

Time to trust myself again.

Time to believe I can be fully myself with others.

The Siren needs a new purpose. She needs to transform.

She was created to protect me, but never learned how to do so without fear and destruction.

The path to transformation will tighten my ropes as the Siren's song gets louder.

Perhaps the Siren doesn't disappear at all. One day I may still hear her.

But by then, I'll already have sailed past her beyond the cliffs.

Past the cliffs to the woman I'm becoming.