Gatherer. Peacemaker. Warrior of the heart. Take off your wool coat and tattered boots and adorn yourself in silk. Dwell by the fire. Let it warm your aching hands. Your babies are tucked into bed, fast asleep. Their bellies full and their skin tan from long days playing in the sun. Undress yourself of responsibility. Indulge in the rouge of the setting sun. Your tears are safe here. Lower yourself into the waters of presence. Let it run through your fingers and over your body, unwilling to be grasped as it frees you of the bloodstains.
Grief. Abandonment. Loneliness. Death. These things may touch you deeper than ever but they do not hold you. You are held by greater divinities.
Light. Passion. Play. Wisdom. Grace. Things that can not be assigned by man. You may feel weary and hopeless, but the moon will still you and set your worries free. Daughter of the clay and dust- your shadow still falls behind you and the sun rises ahead. As you dry out and burn like forgotten roses your beauty intoxicates the air around you effortlessly, simply because you are one with the violent pain and emptiness of all humankind. So then, let go and rise like smoke, unpredictable and free. This is your story of Discovery.
- A letter to myself for the nights I thought I couldn’t survive. Morning comes again. - Marisa