Warning: adult language ahead!
We were raped by souls that were tormented by other souls
Our wings clipped
Throats slashed
And the blood that remains paints the sky of rouge
It’s the layer of heat risen from the fires set on the women who practiced magic
Who devoted their lives to wisdom and wild wonder
Those bodies were covered in gasoline and still we are trying to scrub the aroma away
Wash the lingering touches of men who feel like they have ownership
Those men who refer to us as “pleasure houses” and a “good fuck”
Who do not respect the word “stop” and proceed by ripping panties and destroying homes
But they didn’t destroy us
Our pussies stayed rooted like oxen
Speaking together in tongues only women could understand
The synchronization of empowerment and liberation
Our pussies all whisper in the night
Weaving together collective strength and pain
If you listen closely enough there are howls and screams, sighs of our own forgotten pleasure
We are the women we have been waiting for
The souls the grandmothers sent down to heal the world
Warriors of the female collection, an army of bloodshed not by weapons but by beauty
Holders of death and life itself and that is why they fear us
Because our ovaries turn steel into thin dust
And hard-edged men into ones who know tears
We are the voices of grace and refuge—a sacred space only told in tales and myths
But now we are here, rising like the moon in the night
