The Church imprisoned the Queen of Angels in a glass display case, and when the people showered her with more flowers than the Pope – flowers grown out of the bones of Ancestors erased, they took the Queen away and made a seating area for their wanderers seeking redemption from living.
What is the path towards liberation? Specifically, the freedom of sovereignty for the woman’s body in a female world managed by ego-fed men and women with beards?
A breakthrough of harden molds shaped over time by the waves of social thought and commentary – out maneuvering colonial guards, wardens and death sentences to arise and be.
It is recognition of Self as the source of water sought in the barren desert riverbeds experienced on walks across the molten glass-shaped sands sweeping the edges of here and there; life and death; birth and renewal; love and loss seeking the courageous feel of the heart.
With open arms as wide as the bank-full, I float on the gentle surface of rushing waters – taking up space as broad as I can imagine – letting my head fall under the surface to deafen the cacophony of demands to settle in peace so still I hear the heartbeat of me and all of my feminine bloodstream relations; Feeling the water wash away the residue of words, thoughts, memories, experiences ~ anchored in my lady parts manifesting discomfort and dis-ease.
Cleansed so pure not even the Black widow’s bite can paralyze the acting of late-life desires entitled after years of sacrifice. Freeing regrets crystalized in the womb – delivering them back into the earth to become compost and fertilized dreams birthed as Ancestors returned in the future.
I am free. I am sovereign. I am beauty. I am love. I am creating my own ethereal path of liberation.
Alisa's thoughts on Beloved Communities 