My Dear Beloved Friends,
What you are about to hear and read comes from a place of profound hurt and sorrow…like an arrow buried in my heart long ago. Do you know how that feels? Do you have any wounds that run that deep? Then you will know why I must share this today…from the beloved depths of my wounded female soul. I share this from a vulnerable place because I can no longer bear the pain of avoiding the things that need to be said. My intent is not to hurt or offend, but rather to hold open the door, for a few new ideas to take root, blossom, flourish, grace this world.

With Love
May We All
Bloom Again
Anew

What if Jesus were a woman
Buddha could be She
Would the Prophet Muhammad consent to cover and shut up
How different would the story be

What if Pachamama didn’t mother
But was still deemed worthy
What if Mary, Mother and Magdalene
Didn’t have to prove they’re “pure”

So many appropriations
Uses and abuses
Squeezing in and packaging
Of the female, sex, and role

Now let me tell you something
Boudica was a warrior queen
But we need not all play martyr
March our lives to endless struggle

What if Odin chose not to hang
From Yggdrasil, the great Tree of Life
Funny how it’s knowledge, water source
Was filled up with a great three She

Like Allah’s three wise daughters
Three witches survive in fairytales
Retracted, rewritten by all the wise men
The holy trinity ices the cake

And when I think of rising
Like the moon and sun
I think of the old Easter hare
Goddess Eostri was once known

Ah how quickly we forget
Accept agendas cloaked in “magic”
Mystery and entertainment
Explanations for control

But hey, I don’t know it all
I don’t even know a little bit

But… spirituality, freedom, soaring awareness?
–It doesn’t seem buried beneath subjugation

I tell you, I don’t have to mother
Or adhere to “ideal” lies of “pure”
Consent to lock She and me up
Or the converse, flaunt and flirt

To prove my worth and power
I AM DIVINE — I AM WOMAN
And I won’t let our essence
Be erased, forgotten, without a trace

Nor will I permit the unfit
To primp, puff and distract me
With a pretty dress and penis pop
I’ve no desire to do what’s been done unto me

So stop preaching I handed you the apple
It was your snake who offered the invite, right?
Stop aiming all your venom, blame
These scripts don’t have to pave the way

Dividing
Converting
Conquering
Social prisons
Hell-bent on control

Crusades, jihad, endless genocide
Was it only Pagans
Obsessed with human sacrifice
Cleansing, creating an apocalypse

And all in the name of WHO exactly
What is it WE’ve been doing exactly
Worshipping, perpetuating
Myth and script, over again

Violence, aggression
Fear and hate
Persecution
Cleverly disguised

In a “spiritual” compass
Designed to organize
And justify so much
That has nothing to do with LOVE

Unity, our interconnection
All that’s been tainted, incorporated
Subdue the female, slave, and savage
Is it really ok to pillage and ravage?

Is it really US versus THEM?
Must it be ALL or NOTHING?
Are boys and girls really enemies?
How easily our identities are mobilized

We must stay wise, with open hearts
Consider source, and all the filters
What flows, feels right
And what feels forced

Who is indeed
Authoring the story
We are all products
Of conqueror and conquered

I ask again
How would the world be
If Jesus were
A woman

And you may ask
Just who the hell
Do you think
You are–it’s Friday–Freyja’s Day

I’ll just say
I am me
The kid you knew once
Upon a time

That is All
I am me
And I choose
~ LOVE ~
Eternally