FREEDOM WARRIOR

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I have never been to war to fight for freedom.
But I have crossed onto foreign soil
to take a stand.

I have never walked in your shoes
or experienced what you have.
But I have walked in mine.

I have not seen for my own eyes
the devastation of what you have.
But I have seen pictures that attempt to capture history.

I can tell you this…

You are brave.
You have walked or been carried.
You may feel so much grief that it grips
you unexpectedly 
in moment of great distress.

You may do your best to try and not see
the images playing reruns in your mind
yet they still may only appear more vivid
in the darkness of night.

You are alive. Breathing.

They taught you.
To be strong.
To keep your emotions in check.
Now only to be encouraged to share and feel all that seems so hard to reach.

Why am I alive?
Why not me instead of him or her?
Would I be better off dead then here right now feeling half alive?

Seeing helplessness in the mirror.
Reflected back in another eyes.

Can you know freedom that you have fought for us to celebrate?

~

How could She begin to possibly understand
or write about something that may bring hope or offer insight… when the furthest She has ever been away from home by HerSelf was 700 miles?

She does know of heart ache and loss.

Of loosing people close to Her due to accidents and sickness. Old age.
Of fighting personal battles in life with courage.

She has seen the devastation of cancer.
The ravages of a disease eating away at Her papa’s once handsome face.

She has Her own hidden emotional scars of feeling inadequate and afraid.
Feeling deep empathy for others that at times She cannot separate from HerSelf.

Yet She sits here in the bright morning sunlight.
Trusting.

The song of birds outside Her window.

How does this bring hope? Offer insight?
Through wielding of Her pencil as it etches its way across the page.

Why is She sitting here alone?
With a thought so distant from what She woke up with.

To write with such conviction
on a topic she feels strangely drawn to…

Grief.

The long held sorrow that carries itself within you for a love, a life you will never fully know again.

~

Yet I write. As if I know first hand the battle scars you carry buried deep inside your soul. Darkening your spirit of trust. I applaud your bravery…

To take another breathe.
To take another step however painful.
To take another chance.

On living.
On yourself.
On life.

Thank you for your courageous bravery.

High Five to you Freedom Warrior!

©Te’ Werner
Revised excerpt from Trusting Warrior

© Photo
Te’ walking along the Klickitat Trail, WA

 

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Create Your Own Path

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Many times we walk a path
well worn from our past.

A path that is familiar.
A path in which we have thought we were suppose to be on.

Sometimes though life shifts.
Altering the course of our journey.

Taking us in a new direction.
Allowing us to create our own path.

High Five to Your Triumph!

©2016 Te’ Werner

©2016 Photo
Te’ with her Angel Bailey along the river’s edge; Columbia River, WA

WRITING WARRIOR

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The journey of triumph is for the brave…
the courageous.

Those of us whom wield the sword
of truth with our writing.

Letting the words speak
of strength…

and great understanding
of the warrior within.

High Five to Your Triumph!

©2016 Te’ Werner
Te’s Journal Excerpt

Join the journey https://www.facebook.com/tewernertriumph

TRUSTING WARRIOR

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I have never been to war to fight for freedom.
But I have crossed onto foreign soil
to take a stand.

I have never walked in your shoes
or experienced what you have.
But I have walked in mine.

I have not seen for my own eyes
the devastation of what you have.
But I have seen pictures that attempt to capture history.

I can tell you this.

You are brave.
You have walked, or been carried and even may still want to die.

You may feel so much grief that it grips you unexpectedly
in moment of great distress.

You may do your best to try and not see the images playing reruns in your mind,
yet they still may only appear more vivid in the darkness of night.

You are alive, breathing.

They taught you. Broke you.

To be strong.
To keep your emotions in check.

Now only to be encouraged to share and feel all that seems so hard to reach.

Why am I alive?
Why not me instead of him or her?

Would I be better off dead,
then here right now feeling half alive?

Seeing helplessness in the mirror.
Reflected back in another eyes.

How could She begin to possibly understand
or write about something that may bring hope or offer insight…
when the furthest She has ever been away from home by herself was 700 miles?

She does know of heart ache and loss.
Of loosing people close to her due to accidents and sickness. Old age.

She has seen the devastation of cancer.
The ravageous of a disease eating away at her papa’s once handsome face.

She has her own hidden emotional scars of feeling inadequate and afraid.
Feeling deep empathy for others that at times she cannot separate from herself.

Yet, she sits here in the bright morning sunlight.
Trusting.

Hearing the distance roar of the neighbors mower’s.
The song of birds outside her window.

How does this bring hope? Offer insight?
Through wielding of her pencil as it etches its way across the page.

Why is she sitting here alone?
With a thought so distant from what she woke up with.

To write with such conviction
on a topic she feels strangely drawn to…

Grief.

The long held sorrow that carries itself within you for a love, a life you will never fully know again.

“Yet I write.”

As if I know first hand the battle scars you carry buried deep inside your soul.
Darkening your spirit of trust.

I see your pictures on facebook in my minds eyes of fishing in Montana.
Connecting with the most nurturing force of nature. Mother Earth.

I applaud your bravery.

To take another breathe.
To take another step, however painful.
To take another chance.

On living.
On yourself.
On life.

High Five to you the Trusting Warrior!

©Te’ Werner

Inspired by a Facebook post, TRUST that I had scrolled upon
http://www.warriorsandquietwaters.org/

This is what I wrote as my hand surged across the page.
Tears of reverence wanting to break free. To trust this moment. 

©2015 Photo Te’ Klickitat Trail, WA

Join the journey https://www.facebook.com/tewernertriumph

Deep Waters

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She had been “fishing” metaphorically in a river and had run out of line.
The more line she cast out, she always seemed to come up with nothing.

Perhaps, in letting go she could be free to live her life with joy.
Was this what she wanted? Was this for her highest good?

She knew that she would experience a transformation…
The core issue was not her’s to resolve. A fate beyond her control.

Who was she to say that she didn’t know what it was like to not be willing to deal with something? What the hell?

It felt like “they” did not want to confront things in order to disrupt perceived balance and harmony. Perhaps it is inherent in all of us. When it all comes down to facing our truths.

Don’t we all on some level struggle with making hard choices?
Facing hard facts?

It takes a tremendous amount of courage to recognize that some things are simply not meant to be. The only thing that there is to work out it to create a new plan.

Because I am telling you, I have been doing the same thing over and over again hoping, praying, demanding, begging and damn it, “expecting” a different result…

Knowing that it is down right crazy and insane.
It is fear or courage that keeps us in the game?

Cheers to Triumph!

©2014 Te’ Werner
Excerpted from the upcoming book “High Five to Triumph!”

http://www.facebook.com/tewernertriumph

Further…Along the River’s Edge

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I walked along the river’s edge this morning with the hot sun
penetrating through the clouds. I walked and I cried.

Tears making their way to the surface. Like fish coming up for air.
Allowing me to breath in all that I felt. To let go of all that I do not understand.

I stood at the river’s edge and I felt a strength come over me.
A warrior’s heart rose from within.

Had I been energetically fishing in dark waters…
Waters so deep that I would never catch a fish?

I waded out unto the river and stood as the water flowed past me.
What am I needing to release?

All the hurt. All the heartache. All the harsh bitter words.
Words that may never be understood. Words that had been spoken time and again.

I am not the one to penetrate the darkness of another’s soul…or am I?
Of another’s guarded heart that my love may never be able to reach.

I could do one of two things…
I could keep going or I could stop.

When it all comes down to life and making decisions,
we always have a choice.

We can continue as we are.
Or we can create a new path.

Was I choosing to stay the same and hope that the surroundings would change?
That what I felt would somehow matter or be understood?

As I continued my morning walk along the river’s edge.
I heard a man yelling mean words to one of his daughter’s as he was trying to teach them how to play tennis.

The fact that he was out there with his girls is admirable. But when I saw the oldest girl shrink when she was not told she was not moving fast enough, I could not the bear the distain and anger in her father’s words. She was humiliated.

I yelled!
“Hey! You talk nice to your girls!”

He made a smart ass response…
I stood and looked right through it.

“Do you want to raise them?” he sneered.

I wanted to scream and snatch them up and take them away from this mean dad.
I wanted to yell, “Hell YES!” and tell him where to go!

Instead I responded with a charged reply, “Be the adult!”
As I walked away from the tennis courts.

I walked away with every hurt that I had held unto as a little girl. As a young woman. As a grown lady.
Weeping for the shame that father’s bring to their daughter’s spirits. The wounds of feeling not good enough. The lack of confidence in doing something for fear of being yelled at once more.

I walked away.
What could I say?

I saw myself turning around and marching up to the tennis court fence and peering through with my judgments and love for fragile little girls. Girls that grow up trying to please men. Always in fear of being made a fool. I wanted to say, “Yes! I will take these girls and raise them with all the love that I have to give.”

I have always wanted a daughter and two would be even better. I wanted to take the damn tennis racquet and knock it over his head. “Are you so stupid that you have to be mean? So cruel. That your youngest daughter is doing everything in her power to swing the tennis racquet in hopes of lobbing it over the net.”

The oldest girl with her head down picked up the tennis balls one at a time. I watch as she cautiously brings her arm load of balls to the net and hands over her power one ball at a time to a man that she will never please. Hopefully, to one day recognize the beauty of her thoughtful nature that would rather be gathering stones and picking wild flowers along the river’s edge than playing in a game that she will never win.

I ached. I wept. For all the words that had been tossed carelessly across the net. One lob then another. More balls and anger to pick up and hand back. Only to pick them up one at a time and continue to be beaten down. Even though she was wearing a bright turquoise sundress she didn’t feel so fun anymore.

When would the little girls ever feel like they fit in? Would they ever be loved for who they were inside? Had I caught their dad on a bad day? It didn’t feel like I did. Because they reminded me of a wounded puppy who when it has done something wrong, tucks its ears and tail down after being reproached.

Why did I feel that it was my place to stop and watch this abusive play of words? To stand there and stare. Then to yell. I prayed that he wouldn’t take anymore out on them for me saying something. Only I knew that I had just added to the force of negative energy. Or had I?

Further along the river’s edge, I threw sticks in the water for my golden retriever to fetch. Swimming with such eagerness. I felt love as she dropped the stick at my feet and shook water all over me. I threw with such gusto as I watched her dance around me in joy. I want to be this free. To be kind. To love.

I am no longer bound by another’s anger. I am not responsible for how they take what I say and attempt to share. I am only accountable to my reaction. My actions. I am.

©2014 Te’ Werner
Excerpted from the upcoming book “High Five to Triumph!”

Photo © 2014 Alan Kowalski: “Te’ hiking in Indian Canyon” Palm Desert, CA

What is Your Triumph?

Triumph Rock

I do not know what your triumph is for yourself.

What you long to do in the marrow of your bones.
What keeps you awake at night and wrestles with you in your sleep,
that enters your dreams and rattles the chains of your fears in your waking.

But I will say this…

breathe into that space of your knowing
let the wanting, the longing
breathe out into the world for the manifesting of your desires.

Keep it simple.
Make it clear.

So clear that there isn’t a moment of hesitation from when you utter your breath beyond the thought…that you have no doubt in your mind that when you blink all this will be gone,
vanished into the unknown abyss of your life as you have known it.

I have been there.

In despair.
In longing.
In these fragments of time that have put me in darkness for days.

I will not be afraid of remembering what I am up too. Ever again.

May you offer your gift to the world as I offer mine to you now.

©2014 Te’ Werner
Excerpted from “Follow the Thread” From the upcoming book: HIGH FIVE TO TRIUMPH

©2013 Photo Te’ Werner: Triumph Rock