You’re like a spider woman with claws trying to rip open shit with a nastiness and distaste that drips fierceness from your tongue.
Tracking for threads of truth within her rage from a blinding pain that is all consuming when she’s misunderstood and her grandmothers that live inside her are not seen.
Polishing her finds with the saliva of her ancestors, delicately placing each piece of wisdom on the shelf to lead her back to who she is. Collecting magic with her hands from deep within the earth, her elbows begin to grow roots and she becomes the wildness that she remembers.
Protector from violence she becomes, as she soaks up the volcanic liquid that meets the lava inside of her and spills from her mouth and between her legs and that’s when the world wills her death when she becomes more than can ever be understood.
A power that fills her from the mud she likes to smear over her body. A reminder that her ancestors live inside of her as she reaches for their bones deep within the earth.
And with everything she knows, they still try and silence her rage from being heard, even from women that say they understand but haven’t ventured deep enough to know it in their bones.
As her lava spills and hardens to create new surface, she collects all the fuckers that try to destroy her and suffocates them with her fire.
Give no fucks, be the bitch that only the earth understands because of the love you hold and have for Her.
She understands why death is important and why woven skins that violate her is fucking necessary.
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