You’ve been walking politely.
Biting your tongue.
Crossing your legs.
Staying in what some call ‘your place’.
I have heard your beckoning for change.
I’ve seen your attempts.
I have tasted your tears of frustration.
Sitting with you through it all.
From a forgotten land I come,
Traversing hells and storms
to stand before you, behind you, next to you..
To tear away the veil that keeps your head
heavy and low.
Im unbraiding your hair,
untying your tongue,
untucking your wings,
and uncrossing your legs to allow the sacred flow.
Come with me dear Priestess,
dance with me this dance of heretical belonging.
Grieving ourselves into laughter,
shaking out the stiffness
as we rebirth and transform the world
through the holy rage
hidden in our thighs and in our broken hearts.
Your hips hold the key to swaying
and your body is the door to the Divine.
It is never too late and you’re never too young or too old
You are the chalice of your medicine.
You are a fucking Queen,
and your BLOOD is made of pure GOLD.
- Anabel Vizcarra
Illustration by tomahok