The Wounded Feminine

Bitch.

Witch.

Matrix has got a glitch.

Females NOW rising from the ashes,

Current paradigm one almighty itch.

A world that has suppressed us

In so many sneaky, usurping ways.

The extent of feminine woundedness -

Self-hatred oozing out and got us in a daze.

Mothers, fathers and magazines told us that we’re fat.

Got us dieting every freakin day.

Got be slim and pretty come what may.

Puking up our blessed food,

So we would disappear from the side.

HELD OUR BREATH. STOPPED BREATHING.

Stomach flat.

Looks gooooood, others look jealous, can see them seething.

Thank god for that.

Comparing and contrasting to those other different forms.

Competition and manipulation,

Hidden under friendship and social norms.

Outwardly facing, a view of ourselves from other there.

No internal holding point. No self, no unconditional love.

Definitely no self — care.

Terrified too of speaking up and out,

Afraid to be really seen.

Cross your legs, appear smaller, dip your head if you’re taller.

Blend in.

Don’t ever show you’re keen.

Wounds are not always on the body for our physical eyes to see.

They are unhealed traumas of our Mothers.

Wounds are In our blood that rush through us, in our veins, our DNA.

This even stems from the witches?

Do you remember them?

Unapologetic and connected to the earth,

Women aligned with the universe to assist in its creative birth.

Burned alive and dobbed in by their sister’s coz patriarchy lied.

The truth is, powerful women robbed churches of their power, their status and their pride.

Mary Magdalene, remember her?

A mere prostitute in the bible.

But have you seen Da Vinci’s Last Supper?

She’s sitting next to Jesus.

What a whore.

Men got us thinking that powerful women were insane,

So, our mothers passed on the message, be quiet, be all the same.

They did however birth us here at this very time,

To wake up to the truth inside, the healed feminine

The divine.

Now we and our daughters.

Must take up, take back, our appointed space.

Appointed and anointed by Gods own self,

By heavens grace.

We are all the divine feminine, not to be compared but celebrated.

Interdependent, open — minded, instinctual and tenacious.

Authentic, spontaneous, compassionate.

Not separated.

But related.

The wound is the place where the Light enters us,

So, in our wounds we will find our bliss.

And in tough times take heed from Joan of Arc who stated,

“I’m not afraid because I was born to do this.”