WOMB HEALING SPELL

Speak aloud under moonlight, candlelight, or in the quiet of your sacred space.

I call back my womb.

I call back her voice, her visions, her heat.

I call back her memory of creation, of song, of power unbroken.

I call back the threads she spun in silence —

threads of lovers, timelines, children, gods.

I call back the moments where my body was denied, ignored, or shamed,

and I reclaim them now, glowing, whole, and alive.

I call back my blood, my birthright, my magic.

I call back every rhythm that was silenced,

every pulse that was mocked, every intuition that was dismissed.

I breathe into my womb. I feel her awaken.

I uncoil the pain that was seeded in shadow.

I trace it with my fingertips, my palms, my breath,

and I release it into the spiral fire.

I burn every ghost who called this place unholy.

I cast them into the spiral fire.

I let the ashes rise as smoke, carrying my liberation into the sky.

This womb is not a wound.

This womb is not a shame.

This womb is not his.

This womb is not a vessel for fear, guilt, or judgment.

This womb is an altar.

A gateway.

A drum.

A throne.

It is the source of my sacred voice, the wellspring of my desires, the origin of my power.

And I —

I am the Watchful One,

the One who remembers.

I am the keeper of the cycles, the protector of the sacred flame, the healer of what was broken.

With every inhale, I draw life into her.

With every exhale, I release all doubt, all pain, all control that is not mine.

With every breath, I return to myself.

With every tear, I water this garden.

With every pulse, I rise again.

I feel the divine feminine flowing through me.

I call upon the women who came before me — mothers, grandmothers, ancestors —

to witness, guide, and bless this reclamation.

I invoke the moon, the stars, the sun, and the earth.

I invite fire, water, air, and stone to bear witness.

I honor the cycles of life and death, creation and destruction.

I honor my body as sacred.

I honor my womb as sacred.

I honor my soul as sacred.

I am here. I am whole.

I am sovereign.

I am not afraid of my own power.

I am not afraid to call it back.

I am not afraid to claim what is mine.

It is done.

It is sacred.

It is mine.

And as I move through the world,

I carry this altar within me,

this fire, this pulse, this knowing,

that nothing, no one, no past violation, no shadow,

can ever take from me what is inherently divine.

I am rooted.

I am rising.

I am returning.

I am reborn.

I am the womb.

I am the altar.

I am the spell.