Touch the grass of your trauma
If it helps you remember why you moved on
But do not root there
There’s nothing but poison in that soil
-gws
Touching Grass
Tag: wordsmithing
What I’m Thinking
What I'm thinking is:
This is hard shit.
That sometimes grabbing that fact by the throat and screaming in its face is necessary from time to time.
Sometimes sitting in the shadow of that truth is required when our spirits are tired and our hearts so broken.
And when we're done, we rest. We breathe. And we rise and fight some more.
Because we're mothers.
-gws
The Divine Feminine Rises
Women!
Do not center your lives around men
Pleasing
Appeasing
We are not the prey for their predator
Though some argue nature made it so
We are Medusa's progeny
Serving oleander sweet tea
And Aqua Tofana cocktails
We carry the legacies of Lilith
Hecate and the Morrigan
Skywoman and Diana of the Hunt
In our bones
We are born with cunning woven into our shadows
Placed there by the midwives and wise-women
Kitchen witches and herbalists
Shaman and priestesses
Who came before us
We have our own form of politics
Whispered around washing wells and sewing circles
Book clubs and coffee tables
We don our poison rings and hat pins
Let them think our docility safe
While we keenly observe and note and remember
It is time to end the war waged upon our bodies
The raping of our spirit
The subjugation of our gender
We are the gateway of life
We break ourselves open through blood and pain
To do the Goddess's work of creation
Too long have we allowed the world to think us
Weak
Helpless
Foolish
Simple
Incapable
We must remind the world of our strength
Boudicca was beaten and her daughters raped
And in her rage she waged war against Rome
Joan d'Arc stood against the English and the Church
A God-touched, heretic, peasant child whose heart would not burn
Harriet Tubman survived the travesties of slavery
Another God-touched woman who delivered 70 other souls to freedom
And we know there are so many more like them
Though we may not find our names etched in history
We are no less powerful than those who are
Our lives are OUR CHOICE
We are not chattel nor trophies
We are creation gifted autonomy
It is our divine right to wield our lives as we see fit
Let them vilify us as
Succubi
Mad women
Uppity bitches
And cunts
We know we are
Goddesses
Priestesses
Witches
And warriors
We are exhausted
We are fed up
We are wrathful
The Divine Feminine rises
The world is set ablaze around us
But we are not tied to the pyre
We choose to look the world dead in the eye
And dance while it burns
-gws
Harvesting
I plunge my hands
Into the dark soil
To harvest the fruits
Of gratitude into the light
It is practical work
Grounding work
Spiritual work
To nourish my soul
Drawing upon the root work
Already deeply planted
I turn my face to the sun
-gws
We Are the Bear
Birthing a new world is painful
Shifting a paradigm is tectonic
Daughters,
We do not just choose The Bear
We are The Bear
We are the Wild Mother
We are gifted with the power of creation
We are skilled in navigating grief
We are aligned with the cycles of life
Daughters,
We are the builders of community
We are the storytellers
We are the lore keepers
We are the heart and the hearth
We are the fire keepers
We are the fire
It's time to build and burn
In equal measure
-gws
Discomfort
I breathe and it is not enough
I pray for help for life is tough
I tire of carrying this broken trust
I wish to just feel safe again
My skin too tight, my mind too loud
I seek to avoid the merry crowd
I am now scared when I once was proud
I wish to just feel safe again
I fell asleep so full of hope
And woke within the hangman's rope
Fear wedged deep inside my throat
I wish to just feel safe again
Trust once lost is hard to earn
Apprehension in my belly churns
Quiet rage, set low, still burns
I wish to just feel safe again
Discomfort visits everyday
A mix of feelings eating away
The world no longer morally gray
I wish to just feel safe again
-gws
Unmade
I cannot be a human today
Let alone a woman
I am a raw exposed wound
Showered in salty
Reminders of the abuses
We have already endured
And I am unmade
-gws
Smoldering
I still hold the smallest flickering flame of hope
Smoldering painfully in my belly
I keep trying to stomp it out
Smother it
But it persists
Despite the obvious futility of its existence
It will not listen to reason
Will not extinguish beneath showers of bitter tears
I must endure it
Ignore it
Until it gutters and dies on its own
-gws
My Story To Tell
Speaking one’s truth is an act
Of rebellion
Of reclaiming
Of liberation
It is stepping into the light
After living in the dark for too long
It is my story to tell
And I will tell it as part of my healing
-gws
Rotten
I am, now, trying to forgive myself for the choices I made while trying to survive
For staying long past the expiration date in a relationship that had long been toxic and rotten
I deserved bette
-gws
