At the Temple Gates of Every Priestess

Deserving of every accolade

because they have no clue

how tired, stretched, and terrified you have been.

Wearing brave like it’s fit you from jump

while inside a hundred land mines

explode submerged beneath your smile.

All existence comes through you.

Depends on you.

Connects you.

Feminine streaks of brilliance where the light dared not shine

unless consent given.

Creation movements seeded in sacred darkness that they wanted to research.

But you said,

No.

You been carrying enough weight already.

Expansion to transport exponential chi add blood and air in ocean fluid,

vast territories holding hidden treasure at depths.

Sinking lower.

Bearing higher.

Bones detaching.

Skin pulling.

Vessels compensating for another beating heart.

What you got in there Sistah?

You said,

If I sit quiet long enough

the edges of infinity will be made visible

and I’ll understand things betta.

Leave me be.

Creating mind and muscle with soul means everything swells.

So you elephant lumber down the sidewalk

and multiple Red Sea paths clear

as humanity slows to watch a miracle unfold.

Countless petals

denying the condensed TV sanitized version

blossoming freight train long

and odorous dripping laborious,

grasping furniture, fear, and father’s fingers to split in two as psi grip strength

a ratio of contraction pains to pressure

forcing never-ending love covered in mucus through constricted veils

while everyone waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Can anything else but such powerful essence manifested passion command this patience?

In travail and yearning.

Teaching and learning.

Near tears and surrender blood pours,

spirit soars,

and you have brought the Universe closer.

Eyes open.

Lungs bursting.

Flesh newborn radiant and reaching back towards remembrance.

Back towards you.

Merciful Priestess ripped and torn.

Offerings reverence the portal through which all life’s born.