Holding space to grieve where I was. In the solitude of the polarity of these times, I resonate deeply, outstretching to the golden light, coming into a grandness that is True. It has been lonely at times, to grieve the world and the beliefs that once felt so clear, this grief I move through, each moment closer to on the side of sun. I miss the woman who, in popular opinion, could do no wrong, could pass murky in action due to standing social justice strong. I grieve the ease of “conversation,” the absence of challenge, I grieve fitting the mold that every part of the world tried to put me in.
But my, it was as simple as a blood spot in the pool. Once one element of the chaos of our realm began to tremble, and for a second I stopped to ponder, it all began to tint, to proliferate and crumble the foundation. Not blood as red as the true blood that flows from me now, but as the blackened, pained blood of a crying cervix, the portal of life rejected in mass conscious suit. I miss the girl I was, naive and striving to a false hope of enlightenment. I am proud, fully, of the woman I am now, unpopular and pushing for Truth and Love, for the earth, for each other. I am proud to admire so many like me, in genuine pull to shift my gaze and challenge the narrative.
Missing, grieving, becoming.
These cycles shall be, infinite.
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