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Mikaela Jade Oct 2020
And now,
I cry...

I cry,
not for all that teeters on the edge of my reality,
awaiting a sigh from the angels of the East...
But for the awakening,
the sweet rebirth,
they have already come to spark with it.

I cry,
saluting the darkness,
for its gift of preSense...
Oh, how I feel me in my dance!

I cry,
In gratitude for my sacred sisters,
gifting and guiding me,
with their instinctual song.

I cry,
because now I've had a taste,
of the release for which I have longed.

I cry,
for all of the moments that have lead me right Here,
in which I finally see...
My Self,
lifted through,
and embracing the mystery.

And oh, how I cry...
In honour and in awe,
in whole-hearted wishing and yearning for,
the blessing of divine and true reflection,
in the women before me,
the women along-side me,
and all the women to come...

I cry,
because I see you Mama...
And I am here with you.
I wrote this poem a while back when I was going through a very rough time ~ swimming through the eerily unknown, or more so the forgotten, spaces within my heart.
1.
It felt like crossing      
all things cross, right?

2.
It has been many years since we have walked through that tunnel
and into this land
where the hands of spirits became the wings of ancestors over us
and the quiet inner gust became an orator of truth  

Truthteller could you tell me again my name
They have given me so many on the northern journey,
disguised me to be one of the multiple
flickering pixels on a television screen

eyes darker than their own
but who has darker eyes

3.
She is the barefoot daughter of the Pachamama
womxn of many tongues
womxn whose tongue was not cut off
so you hear her sing when the sun comes up
and sway with the blades of grass
onward in the direction of the voices and the wind
and all the things that cry and laugh out loud  

4.
They made you cross, too
and at the same time
But they made you forget
about the birds,
the wind,
your name- our name
and the alphabet
5.
silence is the alphabet used to speak truth  

6.
They made you forget your name.
Ask them your name as you look up at the sky
cloudy or clear
as  children lay silently next to demarcation lines
housed in steel bars
gloomy and lost
ask and listen
to be humbled by your name  

7.
The spirits call again
can you hear them now?

back through the tunnel of innocence,
they whisper your name.

— The End —