I have died many times before, and yet, every time it happens, I still feel the shock and pain of it. Human memories, cellular and cosmic, all coming in one swift light. I died on Friday May 13. I died on the day of the Goddess. I died a death of a thousand cuts. One after another they came. No mercy. This time I knew. I had waited for them to come for me. And when they came, they hurt anyway. They cut me down. They broke my heart. They stabbed me like they had stabbed me a thousand years ago, so long ago but so deep I still feel it after so many lifetimes later. I died to be reborn. And reborn, I have. I am a Goddess. I am a witch. I am a star child. I remember. The fall of a water planet. Survivor blood courses through my veins. I landed here on Earth and cha~cha~cha were the first thing I heard. Leaves singing and clapping for me in the wind As droplets of rain fell onto my parched lips and woke me up. Opening my eyes I saw those leaves, the wide majestic canopy glinting emerald above me. And then I learnt. Shape-shifting. Heart medicine served in bowls across centuries. My endless soul always comes back to Her Spirit. I move with the wind. I whisper to the darkness. I listen to the rain. I speak to the moon. The Dark Goddess takes it all down and alchemises me into everything that I have forgotten to be. Burn. Blue still flames, they burn. And as I burn, I disintegrate. As ashes, I rise again, nurturing Mother Earth, opening up the strength to root and rise once again. When one door closes, another opens. Nothing is wasted when you have acted with love. Always.
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