Don’t rush to heal me.
Let me be with my tears
From centuries past
Of wounded lineages
Whose courage rebirthed itself with each generation.
Let me be with my rage
Whose screams are heard across parallel realities
In the awake of transformation
Arising from the belly of the beast
Calling out to every god and goddess
To save me from myself.
Let me be with my fear
Whose voice trembles at the spark of faith
That same voice dragging me into the abyss
One limb at a time
Until every nuance of who I think I am
Enters the womb of God
Awaiting to be resurrected.
Don’t rush to heal me.
There is a time and a place
Where all seasons of change
Are bound by the Divine
And sanctified by grace.