Thanksgiving Poem from Rebecca


I am Raw.






Fearless and protective, I

Loved my tribe beyond reason

Seeking insight for them

All. These. Long. Years.

Yet senselessly,

(secretly?) relentlessly my

Self-abuse masked as food

Why why I can’t turn that love

Toward the spark of divinity

known as

My Self

For so long.


So many years now

How many years now?

Hating my body. Hating my self.

Seeing body as self

Seeing fat fat fat



Yet so proud

So certain that I was on a

Spiritual Path.


I don’t think so.


Not so much.


Dieting. Dieting. Dieting.

Checking sideways in the mirror

Every Single Day

Do they – the horrible They – see what I do?

I cannot leave my house.

The shuttered windows and

Locked doors of my clothes

And my mind

And my shallow breath

I cannot be Me.

It isn’t possible,

Not like this.


This is not

Working out.


Yet love of the Spirit

Brings me

Time after time

To my rawness,

And the love to be found in this

Physical Block.

I have thrown myself bloody

At this immovable thing,

This marble of Heaven

Carving me

Through such hell,

So painful, so precious

Such purpose, this

Sharp tool of love

Releasing heaviness of soul

That leads to my

Dissolution and




That is all


I am not my body

I am not the enemy

I am not wrong

I am not bad

I am not ashamed

I have not failed

I am not starting a diet

I am not finishing a diet

I will never be finished

I am only Present


I Am.


And I am not

a number

Not in measurements of minutes

And most certainly not based

on a relationship

to gravity.

No more standing on that thing, that flat ugly thing

As it reports a random message

That determines my perspective.


Ah sweet God. Thank you for keeping me

Trudging back, trudging back

With my brothers and sisters

Who follow the star,

Who understand

That your plan for the body

Is not a thing taken lightly,

Because quite simply

It is everything

We are one there, in peace.


This family who knows

That the darker side of irrational motion

Fast Food

Technology and speed,

Has stripped us of time

With one another

With our presence.

These are the ones

Who know

That the sweet nectar and pungent forces

Locked within a bounty already provided

Will slow our pace to a walk within ourselves.


Let us not be deceived

Believing we are better or


To our simple ancestors

And simple times

When the truth is, we are scared.


We know in ourselves

That the day we release

Not pounds, but

Our heaviness,

Our grievings,

The mourning and tears

Buried beneath the

Smothering gravy,

on that day

We will be exposed.


And oh God

Do we fear exposure.


So I sit for this moment,

Within the safety of your presence

Listening as my body

Clamors for donuts

And the deception of dehydrators,

But my soul’s quiet voice

Is sweeter than sugar

More soothing than bread

More aromatic than meats

With the succor I need beyond

Fleeting tastes, and

Slumber, guilt, and pain

And most importantly




This year

I will show my gratitude

Not by wringing my hands over food choices

And the anxiety over lists-

Even raw lists-

And especially no plans to speak of food

Or to desire validation by recruiting others to my journey.




I will quietly give thanks

Because finally I have reached at least

As far as to possess a moment of insight

Peace, rest, joy, the tunnel of light.

Feeling free.

Free of the burden of my soul

Free from the need to forget

Free from the need to recall,

Free from the anger that binds me

Free from the guilt that is not my yoke to bear

Alone, and

Free from the lie that fear is my fuel

Free from the fear that light will not

Ground me.


Ground Me.  With your Bounty.

What I feed my soul’s vehicle

Is a choice each moment for deception or truth.

Give me strength to be a conduit

For shining.


For the length of my life I am yours.

~Rebecca Covington

Personal Guides Channeler,

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