(W)holiness has been haunting me since every Christian person I loved pointed out that I* was not enough unless I’m willing to chip some of myself off.
In each moment that a parent villainized a teen instead of questioning their own beliefs, a voice started growing within me, lingering as a reminder that I must be “bad”.
This year, on January 2, I woke to a message telling me that there is still time to make the decision to be saved. This year, on January 3, I finally accepted that salvation has never been “just around the corner” or “a decision away”. The only thing my heart has been calling out to be saved from is the weight of other’s opinions, squeezing it of it’s ability to pump.
I trust my purpose and my function – even without external confirmation.
Salvation
Salvation was never waiting for me.
God has not been tapping his fingers on his desk,
trusting I’d come around.
If you wanna say “he” made me,
point to what hole he birthed me from?
Leaves my options as being a piece of shit, birthed Of bum – or a seed,
shooting off and hoping to take root and grow in someone.
Only femininity leaves creation complete and (w)holy.
So tell me again about how i should submit to the men before me.
Weave me stories about how I’m weak and need to lean on the patriarchy for safety.
Then drape them over me like blanket, or a ticket to all that is holy.
Tell me a good life is living in surrender,
like you can trick me into abandoning the reality I see.
I am birthing a new world that revolves around sisters, mother’s and community.
Men matter, so much. I’m just done accepting they come before me.
Mother nature keeps the world moving, even against the resistance of patriarchal greed.
I am mother and nature is me, meaning I will keep thriving in spite of what you’ve destroyed in me.
So call me goddess and drop to your knees.
If you want to stay, you will learn how to breathe through the scream.
Reroot yourself in the belief that a garden can grow where you are standing
Then start tending.
You get to choose right now – is this a beginning, or an ending?
Much love, until next time.
Madeline May I... 