Fertility Rite~OM the Night

The beating of wings stirs whirlwinds, angels echo down the hall…

I turn my head to see where the voices are coming from. I’ve tried to hold it together for so long. These ideas of right and wrong. The whispers are no longer invisible. Holding a light to them, I can entertain the what ifs. What if I broke the rules, completely? Shadow and light chase me down. They’re pounding on the door. If I walk away from all of these expectations, what then? I slip away into hand carved lullaby’s…

I remember many nights spent by my window when I was younger. Gazing at the sky, I lost myself. Let myself escape into the pitch of dark. The peace of it was comforting. Unspoken. It seems that even back then the noise of what others wanted me to be was alive and well. I come up against that noise many years later. Tired of hearing it, I want to tear the atmosphere with my teeth. This savage wilderness pushing up against my inner layers. I’m tired. Fed up with having this veil drawn across eyes that tire of the view.

OM the night is approaching. The opening ceremony bringing with it a vivid symbolism. A butterfly release. Depicting in essence, the transforming journey. Many of us have been traveling, in individual ways. Our peace to be found within varying shades of exploration. The us in search of our true shape. Breaking free of the enveloping we once were. We honor the healer within. Breathing upon glowing flames, extending their reach. Spirits reaching for wildfires.

Night will follow. Our respective butterflies being released before nightfall to find a safe place to rest. Beautiful creatures that earned their metamorphosis. The old falling away, revealing the new. The struggle of escaping a stagnant shape. Something to behold in the capacity of their resilience.

So what of these voices trailing behind? They’ve become a rumbling. A thundering gallop. My heart bent intently on hearing just what they have to say. Like the butterfly shedding it’s cumbersome cocoon, I no longer want to carry dead weight. Releasing the sound of the past. Facing the future with different eyes. I walk back into the night. Remembering we’ve known each other all this time. Knowing, this time around, the light of strength is more than enough to lead my rebellion. To shape sound. Enough to recreate my version of peace. Droplets of color rain down on me.

Celebrate yourself. Celebrate one another.

S. Mallory

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