To all my fellow women who have kept their beauty hidden in dormant volcanoes, lost at sea, or deep in a hibernating cave for winter. To all my women who are tired of conforming to the shackles of doubt, the razor blades of insecurity and the corset of untold words squeezing through the seams. My women you are the marvel of this world. The intermittent beat of Earths rotation around the sun. Your shapes and colors creating geometric marvels waiting for you to shapeshift into wholeness, connection, being. To all my women who choked on the words of unworthy and cried at the reflection in the mirror. To all my women who shame another because the fight with the self is a battle you’ve known your whole life. My women you are made of sand and fire. Water and dust. Electricity and patience. We’ve waited generations to walk in freedom, to love ourselves holy. The moon positions to amplify our cosmic existence, penetrating us in the light of a dark night of the soul. Germinating seeds under the soil, we are the wisdom keepers and the birthers. Creating roots of growth with every observation and simple statement of no. To all my women craving the freedom to exist in totality of your worth. Your time has come.
WARRIOR WOMAN 