Womanhood Warriors

It has been months since I have written a piece simply for myself. Last night, this beautiful flower blossomed so quickly after a joint meditation with my woman tribe—you know who you are. Feels good to release some words of magic that feel very personable and meaningful to me.

As she released the binds that tied the two of them together, she let go of the weight of perfectionism the constant battle to be and not heard. She untangled every line and tore them apart, freeing herself now, herself then, and the child like figure begging her for relief. 

Her left hand cupped her naked breast, in position over her heart. Her right hand above her left. Alone. Alone in her own skin until the warmth of their hands, one by one, lightly joined in unison behind her. The womanhood of warriors holding her in her sacred space. Aligned and strong like a cape of bravery. She is and will never be alone. 

Every woman who dares to grow and jump into herself is never left to break and fight solo. 

For centuries we have armored up, thrown our capes on our backs, hauled our children on our hips, and walked not in our own trauma but the trauma of our sisterhood, our ancestors, our mothers, and the womanhood of warriors that will come after our time. They too will sit in the darkness, releasing binds and breaking chains that we unknowingly created and I (with you) will stand behind her with our hands upon her shoulders reminding her she is as we are, never alone.