When I think of the women in my lineage,
I know that I carry
The voices of wisdom who did not have access to write their stories. I welcome you to my dreams. I will tell your stories with the gift of language that exists beyond our bodies shelf life. I will write your stories until my fingers bleed. I will speak your truths until my voice is hoarse.
I know that I carry
Healers and medicine women deemed as witches. Burned for their brilliance, demonized for their service. I will resurrect your spells as the balms our bodies are starving to remember.
I know that I carry
Innovators with their fingertips like composers with a thread and needle, creating beauty out of scraps, somethings out of nothings. I will create art with the same resourcefulness. Anything I interact with will be more beautiful from my desire to make it that way.
I know that I carry
Lost voices
Broken spirits
Suppressed rage
Stifled passion
I am here to unlock it all and let it run freely like the crack
To the break
To the bursting of a dam
Breaking is not destruction
Breaking means there is an opening
To something new
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